Unlikely Detectives
by DashRenders
Summary: When Karen Starr is the target of a cowardly bombing, Power Girl wants vengeance. But it's going to take a team up with the World's Greatest Detective to see the job through. Together with Batman, she has the skill and the will to catch the crooks. Now all she has to do is not get distracted by how easily she works with her new partner...
1. Close To Home

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _1 - Close To Home_

* * *

Karen Starr sat behind her desk and pursed her lips, puckering up in front of her little mirror and making a face. She swiped the lipstick she chose, hesitated, and finally began to apply it. A waxy sheen of red painted her mouth before she capped it and dropped it into her drawer, sweeping a dozen other rejected colours in afterwards. She hadn't even thought about perfume yet. She didn't want to give this guy the impression that she dolled herself up just for him, but she didn't want to seem lazy, either. After all - it was just an evening out on the town, right? That wasn't a real date.

' _This is getting silly_ ,' she thought. The sound of footsteps outside her door clicked in her sensitive ears and she adjusted her long red wig, sitting at attention with her hands folded neatly against her tabletop. An instant later she remembered the mirror and vanished it with a rush of speed, tucking it away in her bottom drawer.

"Miss Starr? I've got the – oh." Charlotte Stein blinked, tucking a strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear while juggling a box in her arms. No matter how long she worked at Starrware, Karen Starr was unlike any boss she ever had. Time and again, Charlotte forgot the cardinal rule for assistants: knock before entering. And every time, she expected to be scolded or fired, or at least find her boss with her head down and studying some documents. But Karen Starr seemed to defy the odds, forever sitting to attention with a look of patience. "How do you _do_ that?" she asked, unable to help herself.

"What's that…? Know that you're coming?" Karen smirked playfully. Super sensitive hearing. X-ray vision. Microscopic vision. An assortment of alien senses that allowed her to keep up with almost any meta on the planet. "I'm just special," she said instead, nodding at the parcel under the younger woman's arm.

"What's that you've got?" Discreetly she bowed her head. Karen's ice-blue eyes sparkled for a fraction of a second.

"Oh!" Charlotte stepped forward, holding out a cardboard cube. "This was dropped off via courier just now. I know I should have left it for you to collect on the way out, but I remembered you saying you were expecting something special and – "

"It's fine, Charlotte," Karen interrupted, gently interrupting the younger woman. "But I don't think it's quite what I was after…"

She was sure of it, in fact. A quick glimmer of her x-ray vision confirmed it was little more than a collection of nameplates for office doors. Those, and a whole heap of packing peanuts. What the company needed, perhaps, but _not_ what she was waiting for.

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that. Was it something special that you're expecting?" Charlotte set the box down on the nearby sofa. Karen smiled. It was a first job for Charlotte – most businesses in Manhattan wouldn't keep a secretary who barged into offices and asked questions. But she worked hard, and as far as Karen was concerned, that made her more valuable than most other applicants who could barely be bothered to answer the phone. Or gazed longingly at her breasts during the job interview.

"Just another snow globe for my set," she said. "Ordered it from Italy. It has the leaning tower of Pisa inside, and… well, anyway." She cleared her throat, feeling modest all of a sudden. And it didn't help that Charlotte was peering at her strangely, squinting like she was odd. Until finally –

"Is that new lipstick you're wearing…?"

"Hm? Oh! Yes, it is," she murmured, flicking her hand in dismissal. "Nothing special. Just a little date- ah, evening out."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Charlotte beamed, and Karen fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"It's just a bit of a get-together with a guy, Charlotte. Nothing too special."

"But it can lead to something special," she gushed. Karen glanced up in time to find Charlotte staring off at the Manhattan skyline just outside the windows. No doubt fantasising of a million and one love stories that surely happened every day in New York.

"Just a little meeting," she said again, almost stubbornly. "Nothing fantastic."

"Karen Starr…" The young secretary drew her name out, offering her a sad smile. Two things that Karen did _not_ enjoy, but kept quiet about it. "You realise you're more excited about a snow globe than a date, right?"

Karen Starr hung her head. Because Charlotte was right, but she didn't quite want to admit it. "I like the leaning tower of Pisa," she muttered, instead. She enjoyed Italy as a whole. So much history and art…

"Well, tell me about him! What's he like?"

For a moment, Karen almost asked "who? Italy?" But that would be an easy conversation, and her life was anything but easy.

"Well, he's funny," she said. Actually, it was perhaps the main reason she agreed to go out with him. Out of so many New Yorkers, Franklin made her giggle easily. And he was rather good-looking, to boot. He reminded her of a blonde Nightwing, only without the rough-and-tumble vigilante lifestyle. But that led to the big, glaring fault she had with him. "He's also younger…"

"So?" Charlotte grinned. "You're _Karen Starr._ Billionaire business owner and genius! Aren't you expected to have some trophy boy toy?"

Karen really did roll her eyes at that. Her reputation glowed so brightly because she was able to distance herself from so many others in that regard. She didn't have Lex Luthor's checkered past, nor the seedy reputation that Bruce Wayne had. Something else that made her giggle in private.

"I'm just not going to have a huge expectation going in, okay? And that's healthy scepticism! You can't tell me otherwise."

"Alright…" Charlotte held her hands up in defeat before turning, obviously knowing when a battle was lost. "Well, if any more parcels come, I'll leave them in your office, Miss Starr. Enjoy your evening!"

"Thanks!" Karen answered as the door shut behind the younger woman.

Stupid express tracking. The bane of using online shopping – once you entered your payment details, it was a bit of a faux pas to add "don't bother with posting: I'll fly over and grab it shortly." What a headline that would make.

Superhero outed as billionaire mogul after picking up her parcel in costume. More news at eleven.

Charlotte was right, though. She _was_ more interested in a snow globe than a date with a younger, good looking and funny man. Whod'a thunk it? Besides: how bad could it possibly be? She was tough. She survived both the fall of Krypton and the loss of her second home of Earth-Two.

She was a daughter of the multiverse. Kara Zor-L. Power Girl. And she was a wealthy genius in New York, with tech companies across the world. She'd survived the collapse of a universe, robot aliens, interstellar teenaged brats and freaky tentacle monsters daily. Time to go out and have a nice evening with a trophy boy toy, as Charlotte put it. Power Girl didn't back away from a challenge.

She still hoped her new snow globe would arrive by the morning, though.

* * *

"So, I was too embarrassed to take it back. And now my apartment has purple wallpaper."

Karen laughed harder than she meant to, but she couldn't help it. Mostly because while flying in her uniform, she had seen many, _many_ apartments with some gaudy lilac swathed over the walls. And none of the tenants looked entirely too _alive_ inside.

"Oh, you poor thing," she hummed, sipping her diet soda and walking along at an even pace. Part of her still couldn't quite come to terms with how fresh-faced and boyish Frank looked. Not that it would make much difference in the long run. With her metabolism and alien genes, she'd be looking just as she did now as she would in decades to come. Not a small problem by any means, but sparks of romance hadn't quite begun to fly just yet.

Maybe, if that changed, it would be time to buy a cosmetic company for the moment people realised she hadn't aged past her prime.

For now, Franklin was a nice guy. A fun one, and he had an almost Disney prince look about him, with his casual good looks and clothes. In Manhattan, that made him enjoyable company. And it did feel good to go out and socialise a little more. Her inner circle mostly consisted of her (still unnamed) cat, her work colleagues, that _jerk_ Teman who followed her around from the National Security Agency and a handful of the Justice League.

What was the harm in relaxing a little bit…?

"Okay, I've got one," she said, recalling the _insane_ ordeal with Vartox. But, wisely, keeping a few of the details to herself. "Once this guy came onto me in a _big_ way – he looked like Sean Connery, fresh off the set of a jungle movie…"

* * *

Charlotte logged out of her terminal and grabbed her coat, preparing to go home for the evening. It wasn't until she finished shutting off the lobby light that she noticed a pair of boxes sitting just inside the glass entrance of the building. She frowned, hesitating before bending over and picking them both up. She grunted and teetered over – they were solid, despite being small!

"Oh, I really hope one of you is a snow globe," she muttered, bringing them both back to the reception desk and looking at them from beneath the glow of the nearby lamp. Both parcels simply read "Karen Starr," along with a return address. One from New York, the other from Italy.

That was good enough for her. Charlotte hefted both boxes up with some extra puff and called the elevator with her elbow, waddling into the lift with the extra weight in her arms and pressing the number for Miss Starr's office at the top floor.

"This ought to make her happy," she hummed, setting both parcels down on the edge of Karen's polished desk with a nod. There! She'd probably enjoy tomorrow even more than the evening, she was willing to bet.

Charlotte closed the heavy wooden door of Karen Starr's office, completely missing the bright flash that lit up the room from within. An instant later, the world became pitch black as the door was ripped from its hinges, slamming against her from behind and throwing her unconscious to the floor. The sound of a dull explosion shook the building, followed by many of the glass windows cracking and shattering. People walking past Starrware ran for cover as shards fell like rain, all while shouting and pointing at the plume of smoke coming from the upper floor.

* * *

Across town, deep in an outdoors market, Karen's eyes widened as she heard the thunderous _boom_ , followed by tinny screams of citizens. The wail of a siren caught her ears, too far away from the source of the noise.

"Oh, shoot!" She touched her forehead, looking for all the world like an ordinary forgetful woman, and _not_ the owner of a multinational company with a photographic memory. "I just remembered I have to be at the airport in a few hours! Sorry, Frank, but, I've _really_ gotta go."

"Oh." He blinked owlishly before his face lit up. "Hey! Maybe I can drive you over?"

"You're sweet," she smiled. "But I've got my own way. Secret CEO stuff, y'know."

"Oh, right…" There was no hiding the crestfallen look on his face, and she offered him an apologetic smile before touching his arm.

"But I had fun. And you've got my number, right…?" She did enjoy herself, really. For the better part.

"Sure! I'll call – "

"Great, bye!" And she was off, zipping through the crowd and dropping her drink in a nearby trashcan. Her ears caught the pouty "you" as Franklin finished his sentence, and Karen rolled her eyes. So young and pretty, but so insecure. Well – she knew it couldn't have led very far with her real nature, but he made her laugh. And that was worth an extra date down the road, maybe.

In the meantime, she apologised as she started brushing by people, weaving in and out before she ducked down a darkened alleyway. A quick glance ahead and behind confirmed that nobody was paying her much attention, and she leapt up the side of the apartment block in a quick hop.

Karen landed on the roof with her red wig in her hand, yanking off her jacket and blouse to reveal the slate-white figure-hugging clothes she wore underneath. She was still a few blocks away from her nearest cache of equipment, but that was never a problem for her. She took to the air and made a beeline for her apartment, little more than a flicker of air and light as she dumped her hairpiece and clothes behind her couch, and tugged on her boots, gloves and cape.

The bitter ball of ginger fluff that was Karen Starr's cat didn't even stir as Power Girl took to the air once more, heading in the direction of the explosion she heard. Emergency vehicles were still too many blocks away, and she had a mounting sense of dread when she started heading for-

"Oh, _really_?"

Power Girl frowned, her bob of platinum hair blowing over her face as she stopped short and observed the exterior of her building. She knew those so-called blast-proof windows weren't all they claimed to be when she chose them, but it was more to keep them from expanding outwards and breaking when she had to leave the office in a hurry. Not an actual explosion. She shook her head and landed in her office, singed black and gutted from within.

But most alarming of all was the soft thump of a human heartbeat nearby, and she flashed as much of the floor with her x-ray vision until –

"Oh, _no_ …"

Power Girl was in the main office floor in an instant, lifting her heavy door up, designed to handle her own accidental bouts of strength. Now it was a frightening weight, trapping someone beneath it. And she could only imagine who would still be in Starrware at that time of night.

"Rao…" She tossed the door with a flick of her hand, inspecting the broken body of her younger secretary, Charlotte Stein. Fractures and breaks littered her skeleton, but her internal organs looked to be secure. For now, at least. But between the mess of the office, the damaged nature of the building and the sounds of ambulances _still_ too far away, Karen needed to move her. As carefully but as quickly as she could manage, before her heartbeat grew any weaker.

A difficult task for most. But she was a Kryptonian. She thought fast and worked faster. She shot back through her office, out the destroyed glass and down to the next floor, smashing through a tinted window that was covered in spiderweb cracks and finishing what the explosion started. Power Girl's eyes blazed as she fired a superheated line around the ceiling, cutting through the bottom of the floor above. She reached up and smartly caught the slab of cement and support, gingerly bringing Charlotte down on the makeshift stretcher.

As carefully as possible, she floated out of the broken office windows, gently carrying the slab of flooring with Charlotte's form on top of it. People began pointing up and talking, but she focused on listening for the sound of paramedics, blessedly closer now.

"Power Girl…?"

She glanced down, where the poor younger woman had begun to stir awake. "Rest up," she told Charlotte. "You've been through a nasty attack, but you're going to get help."

"You have to help my boss," Charlotte murmured. "Karen Starr. She must be so worried…" And her cheek stretched out as she slumped back against the slab, slipping into unconsciousness once more.

Power Girl smiled grimly at her as she touched the pavement beside the newly arrived ambulance, where immediately paramedics began fussing over her. She'd be alright now, she told herself. She'll get the help she needed.

And, feeling entirely too helpless at having to stand by and watch, she took to the air again, zipping back up to the gutted remains of her office building and furiously looking over the debris.

She had been attacked. More than that, it was a cowardly attack, and one that dangerously hurt a sweet member of her staff.

Power Girl was _angry_ , and she wanted somebody to pin this on. A name, a face. Something she could knock upside the head and send into a coma. But before that, she needed a direction. Some clue or hint at the perpetrators. A method they employed, or something subtle and unique. But all around her was the evidence of an explosive carnage, and Charlotte's broken shoe tossed free just outside the door.

Judging from the splintered desk and charred remains of her office furniture, the explosive employed was more than a message. If Karen Starr were an ordinary person, forensics would have had to use a spatula to pry what was left of her off the walls. It had been on her table before igniting… but why now of all times? Why not in the morning when she was sure to be sitting there, ready to take her head off?

Well, not _really_ , but that lead to a whole slew of other worries. If this explosion were an assassination ploy, Karen would have had to play dead or pretend, miraculously, that she was blown through blast-proof windows (without shredding herself) and landed on something soft halfway down. On a building that had no discernible awnings. And _then_ when news of her fantastical survival broke, who was to say she wouldn't be faced with an even deadlier threat?

But if her mad bomber knew that she was the maiden of might, it became a much more sinister message. A warning that someone knew who she was –

She shook her head. She was jumping to conclusions, now. Only a handful of people knew which name was on Power Girl's Netflix bill, and she trusted them with her life. But Karen Starr…? Rich, successful, and multi-national CEO? She probably had a list of envious enemies growing longer every day.

Which brought her back to the original question of why did it ignite _now_? It was obviously small enough to allow Charlotte to bring it up to her office, and cleverly disguised, too. The odds of it being triggered by touching her desk was laughable. There was no chance for a spark to make a circuit through wood and cardboard, after all. Not to mention it would have detonated before Charlotte - or anyone else - had a chance to escape.

Unless, she realised, it was waiting to come in range of a signal. Power Girl turned, straining her senses and peering out through the shattered windows at the surrounding buildings. And _there_ – she heard it, high pitched and tinny, only after straining her ears. She took to the air once more, circling her building before pausing outside the boarded-up window of a nearby high-rise. An empty lot with little signs of life, she saw with her x-ray vision. And there, propped up on an upturned milk crate and aimed at her office, was an innocuous-looking device.

She ploughed through the wood with a flick of her hand, landing inside and kicking up a cloud of dust with each step. Power Girl bent down and carefully pinched the gadget, eyeing it for a moment before curling her lip. Simple and squat with a matte-black casing. It was also, insufferably, leaden. And she knew better than to try and pry it open. With her current frustration, she would at best tear it apart. At worst, find it to be another small explosion. Singed hair and outfit aside, it would mean the end of her evidence.

She was, effectively, stymied. It wasn't the first time her strength had bit her in the ass – her old apartment had a box full of destroyed doorknobs by the entrance at one point. But the idea of her hands being tied chafed her. Doubly so when it was her own building that was attacked and her sweet employee being rushed to the emergency room.

Her options were few, and each of them lacking in any result. Legally, and traditionally, she should offer the device to the investigators and warn them of its possible connection. But she could imagine how long they'd want to examine a potentially explosive item for. Assuming whoever was targeting Karen Starr wasn't also willing to slip some money towards some under-paid police to "lose" such a find. Not that she thought so little about New York's 'boys in blue,' but so far everything about this incident was an equal measure of sophisticated.. and sloppy. Unless they were very confident in their little "gift" sitting safely downstairs until the morning came.

That left her with the gutted remains of her office. And as soon as the investigators arrived on the scene, she would have virtually no chance of going back there. Not as Power Girl, anyway. A flying woman who walked through walls? She'd be chased away under the excuse of preserving evidence. And insisting on poking her nose into it would just draw unwanted attention to her personal life as Karen Starr.

A few dozen traffic violations and unwanted explosions happened every day in New York. Why would a superhero fuss about with an office building being bombed after she had already withdrawn any survivors? The only smart action would be to come back as Karen after the emergency crews had finished setting up a perimeter. Then she could demand to know what was going on.

… which would no doubt end with her being told to go away and allowing investigators to do their job. And that wasn't good enough. Not on an attack this private, and especially not while poor Charlotte was being driven to the hospital with so many broken bones. She was angry. _Furious_ , even. Almost as much as the time Atlee had been snatched away by Satana.

Power Girl wanted justice. She wanted someone to either hurt, or wither in a dirty cell. A guilty culprit who would never feel safe again. Someone who would be caught, no matter how infinitesimal the evidence.

That's what she needed. The world's greatest detective. Luckily for her, she was rather good friends with him.

She glanced up at the night sky. The moon was full, bathing the Hudson in an eerie light. Across the river, nestled on the coast of New Jersey sat Gotham City. She squinted and couldn't see any sign of the eponymous Batsignal in the skyline in the distance, but she didn't doubt he would be on patrol for the evening. A quick hop took her back out through the broken window of the empty apartment, where she rose into the sky above Starrware. She withdrew her communicator from her belt and held it to her ear. The sounds of police were still too far away for comfort's sake.

"Power Girl to Batcave," she began, as soon as the call connected. There was only the briefest pause before the familiar voice of Alfred Pennyworth answered. The long-time retainer, advisor, and friend of Bruce Wayne.

"Batcave here. Good evening, Miss Power Girl." Hovering above her building, Karen could have sighed with relief from just how good it was to hear the elder gentleman's voice.

"I know I'm a terrible neighbour to call like this," she began, looking back across the water towards the dark silhouette that Gotham cut along the horizon. "But the thing is, I need a favour. A big one..."


	2. The Dark Knight

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _2 - The Dark Knight_

* * *

Batman was known by many titles throughout his career. The Dark Knight. The Caped Crusader. But out of all of them, he allowed himself to take pride in one in particular: the World's Greatest Detective. As a boy who grew up worshipping such fanciful characters like Arthur Conan Doyle's _Sherlock Holmes_ , it was satisfying when he was able to solve a problem with his mind alone, without reaching for so much equipment in his belt or breaking a jawbone.

Batman had been born in a filthy ally, behind a theatre which had just finished screening _Zorro_. Tim Drake had once wondered if Bruce Wayne would have become a hat-and-coat wearing investigator if a young doctor's son wanted to watch _The Maltese Falcon_ instead. Something which Alfred believed would have still lead to "pattering on rooftops in black." But Batman could appreciate the irony. He was, at his heart, a detective.

And presently, it was a good night for investigating. Three senior members of Penguin's operation were on their way to Blackgate following an attempted, cocky robbery of an auto-teller machine in the Bowery. It was encouraging to see the look on Bullock's face when they were led away in handcuffs without a bruise on them. The evidence that had been compiled and left on the hood of his car was too damning, and Harvey's revolver was too big to argue with.

Even cowardly and superstitious thugs knew when they were out of luck.

"Batman to Penny One," he hailed as he approached the shrouded tunnel beneath the manor. Gravel gave way to cement, lined with glowing blue lights either side. The Batmobile cruised comfortably through a passageway that it had travelled every evening since being built. "I'm wrapping the patrol up early. I'll be back momentarily."

"Oh, I am pleased, sir," Alfred's voice came through the speaker, a little more tense than usual. A little stressed, but not alarmed. A stressed Alfred could mean anything from a collapsed arrangement of armour in the manor's museum wing to the cave's bats being off their food.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" Bruce asked, already seeing the lights of the cave appearing at the end of the passage. There was no higher level of security on the planet, and certainly no need to continue with code names. "You sound a little… anxious."

"Well, sir, you have a rather charming guest here who requires Batman's aid. And I was rather hoping you'd be gracing us with your presence sooner than later…"

The Batmobile cruised into the central cavernous area of the Batcave, cutting its speed as the runway came to an end. The current incarnation of his vehicle, as sleek and black and powerful as so many others before it, came to a stop on the hydraulic turntable. The canopy slid open, and Batman hopped out of the machine, climbing the industrial staircase up to the main platform and finding Alfred waiting patiently. Along with –

"Kara?" Unseen behind his cowl, Bruce Wayne quirked an eyebrow. Power Girl was one of many Justice League members who had visited the cave in the past. But she seemed to keep a low profile since regaining her company from Maxwell Lord. Smart and professional, she was as welcome as so many other League members before her. All the same, Karen Starr ran a busy life and had little reason for coming as far as Gotham. Which left him wondering _why_ she was visiting now?

"I called ahead," Power Girl began. She sat on one of the utility chairs with a fine China cup in her hands. Alfred's sense of British etiquette would never have allowed for a guest so stay thirsty, after all. "I'd have waited until you were back, but – "

"Upon hearing Miss Starr's request, I insisted she came when possible, Master Bruce," Alfred interrupted, coming to wait nearby. Bruce waved it away, peeling the cowl away from his face.

"Perfectly fine, Alfred," he said. He trusted the elder man's judgment for a long time, and this would be no exception. "Though I hope you served something other than instant coffee for our guest."

"The finest tea one can acquire this side of the pond, Master Bruce," he said formally. "I only serve _you_ the instant." Alfred smartly began to remove the scalloped cape from Bruce's shoulders as Karen smirked, amused by the banter she only ever witnessed between "those Wayne boys," as Stephanie Brown described them.

"Charming," Bruce murmured, before removing his gauntlets and giving his full attention to the visiting Power Girl. "What can we do for you, Kara?"

Despite everything that happened that evening, Power Girl found herself smiling a little. Not so much from Bruce offering immediate help – she would bet what was left of her office building that he would have done that. But he remained one of the few people who used her birth name in private. Not Power Girl, or her adopted name of Karen. Kara. Kara Zor-L. It was… well, nice. And just a little sad.

"It's been a long evening, Bruce. I – that is, _Karen Starr_ – was the target of a bombing." She watched as the ordinarily stoic features of Bruce Wayne become creased. Eyes narrowed, and mouth frowned. And then she felt it – a quick flicker of his pupils as he took all of her in. If not for her heightened senses, she might have missed it. But she didn't, and she had the distinct impression that the master detective had already learned a number of things from her.

"One that she avoided," he murmured. She wasn't surprised. Invincible as she was, Bruce could probably find any number of clues, from scorch marks on her skin or ashes in her hair, to tell if she was hugging a bomb when it went off.

"If I may, sir." Alfred's voice carried from the massive assortment of screens that comprised the Batcomputer, where her smoking and damaged office was on display. The headlines of _Breaking News: Starrware Bombed_ filled the corner of the screen. "It seems Miss Starr ran afoul of an exploding snow globe."

"That's what I get for buying off eBay," she joked as Bruce gave the screen his attention. The feed was muted, but she was confident he was getting more from the helicopter footage than whatever the news was reporting. "Bruce?"

He turned and once again gave her his undivided attention. "One of my employees – a secretary – was injured in this. I pulled her out from under a reinforced door with more than a few broken bones. She's on her way to intensive care." Power Girl's lip curled downward. "I don't know what they want with me, but I want them first."

Batman merely nodded. "Tell me everything."

So, she did. She explained how Charlotte was expecting a parcel, which no doubt led to the explosive being brought to her office. How there was a delay – long enough for her to get clear, but not far enough to escape being knocked over by the collapsing door. And how she found what could only be a signal box in an opposite building, aimed at her office and producing a soundwave that she had to strain to hear.

"And this is our culprit?" he asked afterwards, nodding towards a sterile surgical tray that held the modest box.

"It's still producing a signal," Karen said, glaring at it as she strained her hearing and heard it whine. "But the way I figure, good luck if it think's it's going to get anything through these walls." Kal had often remarked that Gotham's old architecture had so much lead lined through the foundations, that using his x-ray vision gave him headaches. But it was nothing compared to the security that the Batcave had. Even now, peering around the large cavern, the tiny heartbeats of the bats above stood out like pinpricks of light against the painted surfaces.

"It may not be transmitting for very long," Bruce remarked, shifting the tray to a nearby bench and withdrawing a toolkit from seemingly nowhere. He studied the smooth casing before finding a point of entry he was happy with and carefully began forcing a blade under a seam. "Can you hear any movement inside that may suggest a backup explosive?" His attention never shifted from the machine in his hands.

Karen strained and, after a moment, shook her head. Blonde tresses of her short hair bounced around her face before Bruce twisted the tool. A plastic _crack_ snapped through the cave, and the device broke open, revealing an assortment of processors and parts that seemed typical for a wireless receiver. "What the hell…?"

She bent low and prodded the innards, a gloved finger turning over a processor that was stamped _SW_ in the same manner and motif that all Starrware products had. Power Girl frowned, struck dumb with irony.

"They actually used my components to bomb me," she muttered darkly. But Bruce remained somewhat impassive, examining a different piece altogether.

"For what it's worth, I was considering using your batteries in the next design of the Batwing," he said, before turning to the faithful retainer waiting nearby. "Alfred, would you bring me my Starrware phone?"

Alfred Pennyworth offered a small bow and departed, leaving the costumed pair to examine the cracked transmitter. Power Girl regarded Batman for a moment as he continued studying the mechanism until the silence wore on too long for her liking. She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.

"So," she began, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Has Batman gone ahead and put one of his symbols on the back of _my_ phone?" She wagged her eyebrows as he looked up, the faintest hint of amusement on his features while he sorted the pieces of the transmitter into separate piles.

"Bruce Wayne certainly has one of yours," he replied. Alfred reappeared from a passageway holding a smartphone. Starrware's newest model, she recognised. "The perks of being able to afford the best. Sorry. I should say that Bruce Wayne _had one_."

Karen blinked as he accepted the device from Alfred and, with a mere flick, neatly snapped it. The front divorced the back, and the phone was rendered useless. If it were anybody else, she might have snorted. She'd seen different men do stupid things like that in the past. Because _of course_ a tall, busty "redhead" was impressed by their strength and how much money they had to burn. Others, like Maxwell Lord, enjoyed making such theatrics to prove a point about "inferior products." But Batman…?

"Shall I organise a replacement?" she asked. Bruce didn't look up from the pieces of the phone he held, once again shifting components here and there.

"That depends," he hummed in that familiar timbre. But there was a definite hum in his voice that sounded like he found what he was looking for. A quiet "ah-ha" buried under the surface. A clue. "It's under warranty. But would I get the same model or your newer one?"

It was Karen's turn to scoff. "That _was_ our newest one, Bruce," she said. But Batman seemed to anticipate this answer, and he held up a piece of tech from both gadgets in either hand. Two SoC chips. Both of them were stamped with the same SW signature from her company. But as she peered closer, the other one – the component from the transmitter near her building – was smaller. Slimmer. Just a fraction different near the edges.

Newer.

"This isn't our standard system-on-a-chip part," she said, carefully taking it from the Dark Knight's hand. She narrowed her eyes as she examined it. Recognition dawned on her. "This only just left R&D. It was greenlit for production two days ago."

"So, you've begun manufacturing off-site?" Batman asked. She turned it sideways, looking carefully with an array of microscopic visions for traces of a fingerprint. But neither smudge, nor oil, nor any hint appeared.

"We have facilities across the states, but only New York and Metropolis have had the schematics sent over." Karen made a face before carefully returning the component to the steel tray. A moment later she made a fist, tight enough to make the fibres of her glove strain under pressure. "This came from inside my company," she hissed. "In twenty-four hours, someone stole a piece of property and used it to try and kill me." Bruce nodded gravely. She should have known that he had already arrived at that deduction.

"The rest of these components could be salvaged from any cheap burner phone," he commented. "Most carry the Starrware stamp on them, however. How secure are the labs that develop these?"

"Before today, I'd have bet good money on it," she muttered bitterly.

"Someone's taken that one step further and bet Karen Starr's life on it," he remarked. "But you say the bomb was mostly contained to your office, and there was a delay in the time between when it entered and when it ignited. Long enough for Miss Stein to, potentially, get free. So that only yourself would have been caught. That implies an attacker with access to these components, as well as advanced programming experience and explosive knowledge. Somebody who wanted you and you alone."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Karen remarked. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Somebody in her own company tried to kill her. Somebody missed and sent poor Charlotte to the hospital. Someone who would most likely attempt it again.

"It's a lead, Kara," he reminded her. "And it narrows the field. All that's missing is a modus operandi. Can you think of anyone at Starrware who would bear a grudge against you? Anyone who you've recently demoted, or criticised?"

"No more than Bruce Wayne might," she said, immediately regretting it. She did, after all, come to him for help. But if she struck a cord, it didn't show. She even heard Alfred begun to chuckle behind them.

"Very amusing, Miss Starr," he murmured, appearing alongside them both. "According to _The Daily Planet_ , Master Bruce doesn't do much work at all, these days. He's too busy gallivanting about with socialites for that."

"Ignore him," Bruce murmured, giving the older retainer a look. "He thinks he's funny..."

"Well, he's taking my mind off things," Karen defended, before turning and smiling politely at Alfred. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Oh, praise," he sighed. "I forgot what it sounded like, you know."

"Yes, Alfred – you're very amusing," Bruce muttered, pushing the table of components away and returning to the business at hand. "Don't encourage him. In the meantime, do you have any idea how Miss Stein is coping in the hospital?"

Karen shook her head. It struck her why she always held Bruce in high regard. It was true that he was often a business-first kind of man. But more than that, she didn't know of anybody who was as dedicated to taking care of the lesser fortunate than he was. If she had to guess how much money he willingly parted with in the past for different projects and charities, it would probably put her own fortune to shame.

"I don't know. I hovered outside the emergency room before flying over. She was still in surgery at the time. I haven't even checked my phone, yet. No doubt I've got police and insurance companies hounding me." Power Girl screwed her face up. It was getting easier for her to balance the dual-identity role. It was something that Batman himself helped her find her footing with. But for the time being…

"Bruce – I want these people. Not for what they've done to me, but for who they've hurt trying to do it. I don't care if it was an accident." Patiently, and with a look of calm understanding, Bruce nodded.

"They need to be stopped, definitely. What's your first step going to be?"

"Karen Starr will have to make a statement in the morning, no doubt," she said, wringing her hands. Public talking was something she had no issue with, but under the circumstances? "Whatever I say, I'll be letting my would-be assassin know that I'm still in one piece. And that if they want me, they'll have to try again."

"I'd recommend taking time off from your public identity, but that might just make for desperate attackers. I daresay you would want to present a strong image over the next few days, too."

"You know me well," she said with a bow of her head. But she was beating around the bush, and they both knew it. Throwing caution to the wind and biting her lip, she pressed: "I know it's short notice and you prefer to stick to Gotham, but I could use a detective on this one."

"Just say when and where," he answered immediately, and she felt herself perk.

"Really?" Part of Karen didn't think it would be so easy. He was Batman. His schedule was packed every day of the year. But all she saw was understanding – not the first she'd seen on Bruce's features – and she wondered how often his cowl disguised these glimpses of humanity.

"Whenever you're ready, say the word. Besides." The barest hint of a smirk appeared at the corner of his lips. "I can see the advantage of having Kara Zor-L owing me a favour some day."

She felt her mood improve all at once and Karen returned the smirk. "Am I about to get the infamous 'I'm in charge' talk for this little I.O.U.?"

"I said Power Girl – not Guy Gardner," he remarked. "Besides – Manhattan is your city. I'm the out-of-towner boy there."

Privately, she suspected he was just being humble. Batman may not be able to circle the globe as quickly as she or Kal could, but he spoke more than a dozen different languages and was, from what she heard, quite crafty with acting and disguises. She wouldn't be surprised if a few of her neighbours in Manhattan had a bat in their belfry at one time or another.

"Well, I appreciate the help, Bruce," she said earnestly. This was twice now, after helping with her public image when Starrware purchased a news station. But despite his massive network of information, she knew that Batman didn't keep a ledger of debts. She still never knew anyone in the Justice League who was so dedicated to fighting crime as he was – the mere mortal in the bat suit standing shoulder to shoulder with aliens and demigods.

"The sooner we move, the less time your attackers have to act. When do you plan to make an appearance?"

"In a few hours time, before the business day starts." It gave her more than enough time to fly back, change guises and check up on Charlotte's condition. And hopefully not be hounded by investigators over her disappearance since the explosion.

"I'll investigate the empty lot where you found the transmitter in the meantime. But I'd also like to look over the detonation site, too." He rose smoothly, and it struck her how quickly he moved from table to table, selecting so many golden cartridges (that weren't even marked) and applying them to a nearby utility belt. As far as she knew, he spent almost every evening on patrol in Gotham, always following a lead or keeping watch on problem areas.

"Aren't you tired…? I know you're not a real bat, Bruce, but still…" He had to sleep sometime, didn't he?

"I'll be fine," he said, and she believed it. There was a reason Kal called him the 'most dangerous man on Earth' – when Batman put his mind to something, it was as good as done. "As soon as you make your public appearance, your attacker will know what they may already suspect. They may even grow desperate if they think they're being investigated."

He was right, and they both knew it. Besides – now that Karen had brought him on board, she probably wouldn't even see him as he worked in the shadows when the time came. After all: Batman worked alone, right?

"Right," she simply said, rising from her chair. "Its time I got back to Manhattan and made preparations. But, thank you, Bruce. Again."

"It's no trouble at all," he said, turning his back on his work. Even without listening to his heartbeat of watching his pupils, she believed him. Nothing was ever too much for Batman, it seemed. Power Girl took to the air, pausing long enough to send a warm smile towards the waiting butler.

"And thank you for the tea, too," she told him, pleased with the friendly smile and bow of the head he offered in return.

"Any time at all, Miss Starr," he promised. And then she took off, winding through the network of narrow tunnels and caverns that she utilised to enter. Soon enough she had shot through the Miagani waterfalls and climbed into the sky, speeding back towards New York.

"I rather like her," Alfred said after she had left. "So polite and cultured. She recognised the pattern on the China, you know." He gave Bruce a sideways look. The last time he brought out the best crockery for a guest in the cave, Barry Allen had commented that it didn't hold much tea at all. After drinking it all in a flurry, straight from the spout.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Bruce asked.

"Not in this lifetime, sir, no. In the meantime, I shall prepare a change of clothing. Batman in New York. How extraordinary."


	3. Role Playing

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _3 - Role Playing_

* * *

Karen hated hospitals, and for every common reason there was. If she had ever had a medical issue, she went straight to Doctor Midnight for approval. After all – the only thing that a general practitioner would learn was that she was tougher than any injection they tried to give to her. So, when it came to hospitals, she was always a visitor. Worried about a friend in dire health, walking along too-bright hallways, and forever trying to tune out the sights and sounds and smells around her.

She wrinkled her nose as the scent of antiseptic made her ill. Somewhere around the corner, she heard a family weeping as they said goodbye to a relative. She even listened to the weak heartbeat in the bed, growing slower and slower, inching towards its final pulse. It was the human condition - something Power Girl couldn't stop, and supposedly shouldn't understand.

"Miss Starr?" She sat up as a nurse peeked out from behind a window. "You can come through, now." A buzzer rang before a door opened beside her. Karen picked up a bunch of flowers she brought and smoothed her jeans, walking through the ward's doors. She wasn't dressed for work yet. She didn't want to draw attention to an easily-recognised tech company CEO. But mostly she didn't want to be visiting Charlotte as a boss, either.

"Miss Starr, I presume?" A new nurse greeted Karen as the door closed behind her. Shorter and older, with more creases around her eyes than her uniform. "Miss Stein is past the worst of it. She'll be in a cast and need a wheelchair until the bones in her legs mend, however. As her employer, would we be able to get some insurance information for her in the near future?"

"Money won't be an issue," she said at once. "But can I see her, please?"

"Of course." The nurse took her arm and led her down the hallway with a smile. All while Karen tried to block out the noises of chatting staff once again, the beeping of machines and, a wing away, the doctor declaring the time of death for someone beyond all help.

Finally, she was steered into a private room, where she thanked the nurse and took a short breath. As the door shut behind her, Karen tilted her glasses down and looked through the privacy curtain with her x-ray vision. The figure in the bed on the other side was in one piece, thank Rao, but the fractures and splints were still glaring back at her. She frowned as she spied a plate with several pins in the poor girl's shoulder, knowing it would leave a scar. Not to mention the permanent discomfort in the future.

Unseen at her side, Karen made a fist. She couldn't have helped Charlotte more than she did when she first found her, but she'd make damn sure to repay the kindness when she got her hands on the punks responsible. She wasn't as sweet as Supergirl, and she wasn't above breaking a few limbs, either.

"Is someone there…?"

Karen came back to her senses, stepping around the curtain and smiling widely. 'Oh, Charlotte…' The young secretary sounded weak, and she looked it, too. Bruises and swelling littered her skin, which looked paler than usual. But despite the general air of weariness, she still had a smile on her face. "Hey, there," she said, stepping out from behind the curtain and lifting the flowers. "How are you holding up?" Charlotte's eyes – one much puffier than the other – seemed to light up.

"Oh, Miss Starr! You wouldn't believe what happened!" Karen set the flowers down in a small bedside vase, giving them a little arrangement before leaving them be.

"I know what happened," she said, sitting down on a nearby stool. "And I promise you; we're going to find out who's responsible. By the time you're okay to come home, someone will be very sorry." Oh, she'll make damn sure of it…

"No, not that. I was rescued by Power Girl!" Karen felt her eyebrows quirk upwards from how excited Charlotte suddenly seemed. "The doctors tell me she flew down the side of the building with me, even. Oh! But, did she find you…? I told her you were in danger, and-"

"Relax, it's fine." Karen placed a gentle hand on the girl's arm, debating for a moment whether to reveal how involved her alter ego was. "Yeah, she uh, found me in the end. I think. I went to bed early last night and woke up to a note outside my window. Maybe that was her?"

"I guess. Oh, but tell me! How was the date?"

Karen blinked. She hadn't even thought about Franklin in the last few hours, and that said something. As a rule, Power Girl could act and think almost as fast as any of the Flash family. She didn't even need to worry about sleep, most of the time. But she'd been nothing but a flurry of activity ever since the bombing the night before.

"You said you were in bed early," Charlotte mumbled, suddenly much more bashful. "Was it a good date…?"

"Ah! Well, it… was okay? But nothing like that happened!" Rao, she thought. That fast on the first date…? Kids these days really did think the rich and successful lead decadent lives. She wasn't that kind of girl, though!

Heck – she couldn't remember the last time she shared a bed with anybody. Nobody who's performance was worth remembering, anyway...

"So!" Karen cleared her throat, determined to steer things away from her love life – and lack thereof. "Charlotte, what happened is… it's terrible," she said honestly. "It's unfair. But I don't want you to worry. As long as I have a say in the matter, our insurance will cover every one of your medical bills, and if you need help afterwards or extra attention, you'll have it." She chewed on her lip, aware that the financial cost was heartwrenching for most people. But it didn't make her feel any better.

"Charlotte, I'm so sorry for what's happened to you."

"It's okay," the younger woman hummed, and she seemed so serene that Karen almost believed it. But she was clever enough to recognise the molecules of morphine being fed through Charlotte's intravenous drip to know better. "But Miss Starr…? What about you? The box I took up to your office was meant for you. Aren't you in danger…?"

"Don't you worry about me," Karen smiled, pinching a lock of artificial hair and waving it. "I'm tougher than I look. Redhead, remember? Besides – I'm having a friend from out of town visit. He's a bit of a security expert."

"Really…?" Charlotte's eyebrows rose. She was curious, Karen could tell, but she also recognised the signs of fatigue setting in. The painkillers were starting to take their toll on her. But before she fell asleep again, she wanted to put the young secretary's mind to rest.

"Don't you stress. I hear Power Girl think's you're very brave and is going to be looking out for you in the future."

"Oh, Miss Starr," she giggled, her eyelids starting to droop. Her words began to slurr. She was losing the fight to stay awake. "Don't be silly. Hero's like her have bigger things to worry about..."

Charlotte's head sank into the pillow as her breathing became even, just as Karen felt her phone began to pulse in her pocket. She pulled it out just enough to glance at the glass: a call from Franklin that she just didn't want to deal with just yet. Not when she had to prepare for the media sharks circling outside her bombed building.

"Kid, you don't know the half of it."

* * *

Batman only came out when the sun had set, and the moon began it climb into the sky. He spent most of his career in the shadows, where even hardened gang members who faced him under street lamps struggled to catch a good look at him. He often overheard petty thugs talking like he was some winged demon with fangs and claws, utterly unaware that he was perching on a stone guardian above them.

But the cape and cowl did not define him. Batman did not rest because the sun was out, and a black creature seen swinging between buildings would make him easy to track. He merely changed his attire and methods. Bruce Wayne was often a disguise for him – wealthy and playful, and the last person anyone would suspect of being a costumed vigilante. But when Batman needed to infiltrate an area undercover, he did precisely that. More than one personae existed in his work closet, ready with a full background history for when the need arose.

Presently, with a filthy cap and flannels, Bruce Wayne quietly climbed the last staircase of the apartment building opposite Starrware. At least half the units were empty from what he could tell, and the floor below didn't have a soul staying there. It would be simple enough to attain a list of residents, but he could imagine just how many of them worked across the road for Karen Starr. And even then, there was no guarantee of finding results.

He, a stranger, had been able to walk in while whistling a jaunty tune. Nobody manned the lobby, and the tumbler pins in the doors wouldn't pose much of a challenge to anyone with a lockpick and some practice.

He came to the apartment that Power Girl had identified, withdrawing a simple tool from his pocket, and jiggling the pins. In no time he was granted access and Batman slipped inside. A long-forgotten apartment greeted him. Motes of dust flitted in the air near the splintered window, popped open from Karen's entrance hours before.

"I'm in, Penny One."

Across the river and underground, cradling a cup of coffee and monitoring the activity on the Batcomputer, Alfred checked the security camera that had been hacked into and nodded. "And alone, sir. No soul has even gone near the staircase. I've been able to find a backdoor into the lodging's records, and it appears nobody has leased a room on the top three floors for almost a year."

"I wouldn't expect a bomber to pull the trigger in their own house, Alfred," Bruce murmured. He withdrew another surveillance tool and adhered it above the door. A motion detector shaped like a small bat, and the second he had installed on the top floor alone. "How are the signals looking?"

"As clear as one would expect, Master Bruce." Alfred's voice came clearly through the earpiece he wore, but Batman didn't use technology that was available to anyone – even if they worked on a production line for Karen Starr. Whatever other electronics their target had cobbled together would meet their match in his arsenal. "I've gone over the profiles for the blast-proof windows and the foundations for Miss Starr's office. A cellular signal would be able to just reach her desk from your current whereabouts, or from the north. Any other compass directions would reach the main floor instead of the office."

"So instead of Karen Starr, the staff on her floor are caught in the explosion. And the building north of her office isn't tall enough to reach this level," Bruce said, more to himself.

"Quite right, sir. It seems for this design of trigger, that apartment is the only feasible location. Is there any hope of gleaning any information while you're there?"

"Doubtful. The floor is carpeted, and the door knob's been cleaned on both sides." Much like the relay itself, he didn't expect to find any definite fingerprints. But the apartment itself would serve as a natural trap. Bruce bent low and picked up the wooden boards, carrying them to the window and removing a can of sealant.

"I'm going to cover Power Girl's entrance," he said, trusting Alfred to keep along with each step.

"Wise choice, sir. If our 'mad bomber' does indeed work for Miss Starr, it would only take a glance out the window to see that their site had been disturbed."

"Hopefully they'll feel the need to come and check on their work once she makes her speech." Experimental glue sprayed from the can, turning to foam and sticking the splintered wood back over the window. "For now, I'm leaving behind a number of motion sensors. If anyone steps foot on this floor, we'll be the first to know."

"Right you are, sir," Alfred answered. Bruce tucked the spray away and returned to the door, locking it before shutting it behind him.

"Go ahead and light up the Batscanners, Penny One." Inside the apartment, and above the staircases, both devices flashed once and began to work.

"We are live, Master Bruce."

Bruce Wayne, unassuming, scruffy civilian, began the journey back down four flights of stairs, where he would catch the elevator on a populated floor down to the lobby. Afterwards, it would be a quick shave and change of clothes before it was off to the next appointment, disguised as a charitable, but barely-sober, playboy billionaire.

* * *

Karen adjusted her long red wig one more time, going over the words in her mind that she prepared for the address. She let out a puff of breath before approaching the small podium that had been erected outside Starrware for the press conference. She already recognised a few of the faces in the crowd – Ryder from Gotham, Olsen from Metropolis, a handful from New York proper. But she could already hear them murmuring amongst themselves, wondering how the ordinarily media-savvy Karen Starr would handle this crisis.

Well, let them see, she thought.

"What's happened here last night is a tragedy, plain and simple," she began as she took to the stage. "I do not believe this was an accident. Only that the poor woman involved, Miss Charlotte Stein, was not the intended target of this attack. But make no mistake – whoever is responsible for this grievance will be brought into the light and judged for their actions."

With as many broken bones as Charlotte suffered, she mentally added. Behind her, inside her own building, she was able to hear comments from her staff about how she was handling the situation. And the idea that one of them was responsible left her struggling not to break the wooden podium beneath her.

"Miss Starr!" A reporter near the front waved a recording device in the air, aiming it towards her as he tried to yell over the city noises around them. "Is Miss Stein's life still in danger?"

"I've visited Miss Stein this morning, and doctors assure me she's on the road to recovery," Karen answered. A throng of arms once again went up, and she pointed towards a reporter with their notebook raised high. "Yes, you?"

"Do you agree with the police that this is a case of domestic terrorism, or do you believe that there's another motive behind this attack?"

She frowned, making a mental note to remember who this one was for future reference. A reporter who asked articulate questions like that were usually the ones who found creative ways to take things out of context. "I'm not an expert in these matters," she deflected. "I don't pretend to be. I'll defer to the investigators, and whatever answer they're confident in giving. Anyone else?"

"Karen!" Jack Ryder's voice was louder than he had a right to be, and she tried not to grimace. "Has Starrware taken on any extra security during this investigation?"

"Rest assured – I'm keeping that information private," she answered coolly. "Everyone, thank you for your time." She ignored the calls for attention as she stepped down and hopped the few steps into her lobby. The glass doors slid shut behind her and muffled most of the noise. But if she thought she was safe from having her mood soured even more, she was unpleasantly surprised. Agent Leland came up beside her from seemingly nowhere. Her shadow from the government. The man hung around like a bad smell, sometimes.

"I hope you remember that you need to be transparent about any additional staff you hire, Miss Starr," he muttered, falling into step behind her. Annoyingly, he was able to keep pace with her, too, and did so flawlessly. But Karen was in no mood for his "gentle reminders," and was entirely too close to telling him just what she thought of him.

"I believe you'll find I'm only obligated to tell you about Starrware's affairs, Agent," she reminded him. "And if I were to call on a third party for assistance or advice, it's my damned business."

"If you're going to be inviting consultants into this building, while it's a crime scene no less, you're going to have to satisfy me that they're not a threat, first."

Karen narrowed her eyes. She wanted to put him in his place for a long time. Now, she just wanted to push him and send him flying out through the double doors. But "escorting" Agent Leland from her building would only give her a headache, and she knew it.

"Don't worry," she said stiffly. "I promise you you're perfectly safe, Agent. You're not his type."

"That sounds familiar." The familiar timbre of Bruce's voice seemed to appear from nowhere, materialising just as Leland had done. But this time Karen caught herself smiling. The first welcome face she'd seen since leaving the hospital, even if she knew that this was "the mask." The friendly, carefree, too-cool look was Bruce Wayne - Batman's Oscar-worthy disguise.

"Agent Leland," she began, gesturing to the newly arrived character. "My security consultant and personal friend. I trust I don't need to introduce him?"

"Oh, I'm more than happy to introduce myself," Bruce gushed, transferring a takeaway coffee cup to his other hand before offering his right to shake. "Bruce Wayne – stunningly handsome. And Karen's right- you're not my type. But can I interest you in an Irish coffee?" He wagged his eyebrows and raised his cup with a playful smile.

"It's not even nine in the morning," Leland replied drily. Bruce shrugged.

"It's five o'clock somewhere," he remarked, swallowing what Karen was sure was just plain coffee.

"With all respect, Mister Wayne – what would you possibly know about security?" Leland asked, crossing his arms and looking as unimpressed with Bruce as Karen was with Leland. Bruce hummed and noisily swallowed the last of his coffee.

"Well, Mister Lionel – "

"Leland."

"Oh, I was so close," he smirked. "Ever since Wayne Enterprises publicly funded _Batman Inc_., we've had a huge Bat symbol in our main lobby. In Gotham City, that makes us a target by some of our… let's say, _colourful_ citizens. And yet, we've managed to avoid disaster."

"I wonder if perhaps you're ever sober enough to notice, Mister Wayne," the agent remarked. Bruce barked with laughter, but Karen had had enough.

"I'll remind you that Bruce here is my friend and guest, Agent," she snapped. "You're a liaison with my company, not myself. On the morning after we've been bombed, maybe you'd care to see how the rest of my staff are holding up…?"

Agent Leland said nothing but favoured them both with a disgruntled look before departing. After all – she was right, and they all knew it. Regardless of the public profile she had, her social circle was nobody's business.

"I see you've managed to keep yourself in check around your man from Washington," Bruce whispered behind his cup, pretending to have another sip of "Irish coffee" as she turned and led them both to the elevator banks.

"You're right – I don't have to pretend to be a drunk playboy. I can just drag you over here to annoy him." She hailed the lift and gave the disguised Batman a sideways look. "Nice performance, by the way."

"Only the first one is free – in the future, you couldn't afford me. And you're welcome." The elevator arrived, and the pair slipped inside. Unseen by anyone, Karen subtly studied the master detective. She heard his heartbeat thump a little quicker. Noticed the tiniest expansion in his chest. For a man who lived on coffee and some mild painkillers, she didn't think it had anything to do with his empty cup.

"Nice try," she remarked. "You enjoyed yourself, just now."

"Look who's talking." But she smiled as the doors slid shut. Bruce Wayne didn't need to be the world's greatest detective to know that she enjoyed every ounce of frustration on Leland's face.


	4. Ground Zero

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _4 - Ground Zero_

* * *

Karen wasn't surprised to find that the top floor of her building had more police officers and emergency crew than staff members that morning. What _was_ surprising was how little resistance she was met with. She stepped out of the lift ready to wage war to have access to (what remained of) her office. As far as the police were concerned, she wasn't a costumed alien superhero. Just another rich girl with a million-dollar view of Manhattan.

But whether it was thanks to her looks, her wealth, or the seemingly scandal-proof Bruce Wayne, nobody seemed surprised that she was at work twelve hours after an attempt on her life.

"Excuse me?" She stopped one of the police as she and Bruce stepped out of the elevator. "I'd like to inspect the damage. Am I able to go inside?"

"Forensics have already finished, Miss Starr," the officer said, scratching his brow with his pen. "They've already gotten everything they need, so you're welcome to it. If you need to start thinking about repairs, I guess. Be careful though." He nodded back down the hall towards the broken, burnt doorway. A single line of warning tape stretched across the opening, like the world's worst guard. "There's a bit of a gust coming in through your window – probably from being so high up. Mind you don't walk too close."

She smiled tightly and thanked him before crossing the hallway. Upset stationery and splinters of wood littered the floor as she came to her office, where scorch marks scarred the entrance. She didn't miss Bruce taking an interest in the uniforms around them on the way, and could only imagine that eventually, he'll be learning which precinct had all the reports on file.

" _Casa dolce casa_ ," Karen grumbled as they stooped underneath the tape and stood inside her ruined office. It seemed more or less the same as when she saw it hours before, only with clean spots here and there. And good luck to the police if they thought they'd sweep up any important evidence. Besides some glitter from that snow globe she accidentally broke a week before. "Funny. It almost doesn't seem so bad in the light…"

She meant it sarcastically, but Bruce Wayne agreed in a thoughtful voice. "How many people know that your office is reinforced?" he asked, all while studying some pattern of scoring along the ground.

"I can count them on the one hand," Karen commented.

"Your attacker doesn't know it. The damage could have been much worse. But the blast seems contained to the middle of the room." His eyes narrowed, and she stood back as he traced invisible patterns with his mind. Karen watched in silence. She had seen Batman work before. Watched as he spun, flipped, and brought fists and boots crashing down on top of frightened thugs was a guilty pleasure in Power Girl's career. But rare was the times she was able to see him in detective mode, drawing conclusions based on the evidence at hand.

"So, our bomber was keeping the damage to a minimum?"

"Still lethal," Bruce answered, pressing a hand down onto her desk. She wasn't sure how much pressure he employed, but a sharp _crack_ filled the air as a deep split appeared in the burnt wood. "At least for a non-metahuman. Whoever our culprit is, they were determined to have only one casualty."

"A killer with a conscience," she remarked. "And a real grudge for me, too."

"Someone who seems to be more embedded in your company with each clue," he added. She watched as he drew a calloused, scarred fingertip over the floor, sniffing it afterwards. "Burnt ozone and oil. Fertiliser would be too dangerous and too messy. An ordinary, non-reinforced room would have been demolished. But these ingredients would be just as common in a tech manufacturing facility as the signal box was."

"I never had a chance to ask Charlotte what the parcels that she brought up looked like," Karen frowned. "Not that I expect our attacker to be silly enough to use company supplies to pack their explosives…"

"Well…" Bruce bent lower, squinting as he found something beneath her desk. "I think we can guess what one of the parcels were."

Karen closed her eyes and sighed as he produced a broken, melted piece of plastic in the shape of the leaning tower of Pisa. "If I hadn't made such a big deal about that snow globe, Charlotte wouldn't be in the hospital with a plate in her arm," she muttered bitterly. She took the broken figure from his hand and brushed her thumb over it, warping it beyond recognition. Karen dropped it on her burnt, broken desk with a look of disgust.

"Or she may have delivered it this morning, costing Karen Starr her public life," Bruce deflected. "Would you reveal your nature to her? Or allowed her to think she cost you your life? Never mind what would have happened if she chose not to leave right away."

"You know," Karen began, crossing her arms over her chest and offering him a wane smile. "Diana's right. You don't have the best bedside manner."

"Diana's right about many things," Bruce murmured, a little quieter than before. She watched as he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked out past the shattered window. "Dick's the one who has the social skills. For what it's worth… I'm sorry, Karen. I don't mean to make this sound so clinical."

Power Girl was sure she could live a long, fulfilling career, and perhaps never hear the dark knight give such an easy, albeit quiet, apology. Not again. "Don't be," she said, confident that the officer's outside were too far down the hall and too wrapped up in their work to overhear what the billionaire pair were discussing. "Hey. Do you recall the evening outside the hospital some months ago…?"

"Of course," he answered immediately. Karen nodded. It was rare for her to pour her heart out, but at the time, Bruce Wayne had been believed dead and gone. Lost to them all. So when he came back, Power Girl had quietly admitted that it hurt to have lost him.

Hell. She went as far as to say it killed her. But, like so many good people before him, they were lucky: the best seemed to come back sooner or later.

She still recalled Batman using her name – her real name – and telling her she was one of the best, too.

"Well, for what it's worth…? Dick's a good kid. But I'd take the original Batman any day." And Karen was treated to a rare, bemused smile on Bruce's face. A real one, she'd wager. Just as his playful façade had slipped once they were alone in her gutted office, she knew she was in the presence of the real Batman. Cowl or not, he was a solemn, genuine individual.

Atlee had once mentioned that he seemed cold and aloof. Something that Zatanna had laughed at before ensuring the young woman "that means he likes you enough not to pretend to be somebody else." It was something Karen found interesting enough to remember.

"I'm sure Dick prefers it too," Bruce remarked. "But thank you, Kara."

"Hey – don't mention it," she urged, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed for reasons she couldn't guess. "It's territory we know well, right?"

"Something like that," he hummed. And despite standing in her stiff business suit, wearing a red wig and occupying the ruins of her bombed office, it was easy for Karen to relax for a moment and enjoy the witty banter that she and Bruce shared. The last time she was able to really enjoy it was over a cup of tea at a party while they were both in costume, and she bragged about securing a first edition copy of Vauban to him.

 _"The one on siege warfare?"_

 _"Not for_ sale, _Bruce_. _Don't bother."_

"I haven't asked yet." She nodded towards the shattered window where another strip of tape hung, struggling against the winds outside. "Any luck at the mystery apartment?"

"No tenants registered for months," Bruce said. "Picking the locks would be simple for anyone with our culprit's level of bomb-making skills. I've left a pair of motion detectors inside and on the staircase leading up to it. We'll know if –"

"Wait." Karen's eyebrows knitted together as she heard a high-pitched keening sound in the back of her ear. "Which frequency do they broadcast on?"

Bruce seemed to read her mind as he glanced at his wristwatch, where a small light flashed in the middle of the dial. "That one," he remarked before a third voice seemed to join them. Alfred's British accent was muffled in the earpiece Bruce wore, but Karen heard it as clear as day.

"Sir? The stairwell Bat-sensor has just-"

"We know, Alfred. We're across the way at Starrware." He gave Karen a knowing look, nodding towards the ruined door. "Go ahead – I'll catch up."

Karen didn't ask just how he would manage that. Not while it was broad daylight, he was on the top floor of her office, and there were police and witnesses galore. She didn't have to ask. He was Batman – his backup plans had backup plans. She merely strode out of her office and down the hallway as quickly as she could without drawing attention, bypassing the elevator bank and slipping into the stairwell. A glance up and down with x-ray vision told her the coast was clear and she took off, speeding up the case towards the roof in a blur of light. Her glasses, wig and suit were stashed in a hidden cache as she tugged on her boots, gloves, and cape.

Not five seconds passed since Karen Starr slipped away into the stairwell before Power Girl flew into the sky, diving back down at the adjacent building. The blonde bombshell strained as she heard a key sliding into a lock, followed by another high-pitched whine as another of Bruce's Bat-sensors were activated.

"Shit!" she heard a voice whisper inside, followed by an excited heartbeat. "Where is it?" She stared at the wall with her x-ray vision, watching a tall figure pacing around inside, bending low and looking around the milk crate where the sensor sat just hours before.

It was all the evidence she needed. This guy was guilty of something. If not of attempted murder, then at least of conspiring with somebody else. With an angry scowl on her face, and thoughts of Charlotte pinned beneath her office door, Power Girl hovered once again towards the boarded-up window, raised her fist and flicked the planks of wood with her finger.

This time the glued boards were reduced to splinters and rubbish as she remade her entrance. A shout of surprise tore through the apartment as her boots touched the carpet, fists balled at her side. Power Girl's eyes flared red as she glared at a man in his early thirties, crawling backwards with a look of sheer fright on his pale face.

"I want a word with you," she seethed.

The trembling figure shouted a fresh curse before climbing to his feet, throwing himself through the open door. Heavy footsteps thumped in the hallway outside, and Karen glared harder. She was silently impressed he had the sense to move after a caped woman burst through a window, so many stories above the ground. But she was just as tempted to buy the entire building so that she could storm through as many walls as she wanted, guilt-free.

"Really? You want to do it that way?" she thought aloud. And then Power Girl _moved_ , speeding through the door, and scanning the building with her x-ray vision. She saw him two flights down, his heart already pumping dangerously fast from fright and exertion. She was off in another blur of red and white, streaking around corners and down stairs cases.

Wheezing, red-faced and sweaty, her suspect leaned heavily against the wall and desperately kept hailing the lift as she appeared at the end of the hall.

"End of the line," Power Girl warned coldly, just as the soft chime of the lift signalled it's arrival. A look of relief seemed to spread across his features as the door behind him opened.

"I've got nothing to say to you, toots," he said, his breath still not quite there. But he failed to notice the massive black creature as the elevator opened behind him. Batman appeared to take up the entire space within, the billowy cape obscuring his figure.

"I've got some questions," he rumbled. The out-of-breath man whirled around at the new voice and screamed, once again falling to the floor and backing away, until he found himself soundly trapped in the corner of the hallway. On one side, Power Girl hovered above the ground, an angry grimace on her pretty features. And on the other, Batman bent as he stepped out of the lift before rising to his full stature, tall and imposing.

Trapped between the pair of costumed heroes and a corner, he looked desperately at them both before his eyes rolled into his head. He fell backwards, his skull hitting the wall with a dull thump as he lost all consciousness.

"Well," Power Girl muttered darkly, entirely too tempted to nudge him with the toe of her boot. "Do we wait for him to come around?"

"Better idea," Batman hummed, a hint of emotion in his voice as he bent low and slung the figure up over his shoulder. "We take him to the roof."


	5. Great Minds

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _5 - Great Minds_

* * *

"Amazing," Power Girl muttered, squinting at the scarred, calloused fingertips of their mystery-man. "I've heard about people doing it, but I've never actually _seen_ someone who's burned off their fingerprints."

"It's more common than you think," Batman muttered balefully beside her. "The skin becomes chipped and raw, leaving behind skin flakes and DNA. It's a more damning piece of evidence than an entire handprint." Meanwhile, a lack of fingerprints hadn't stopped him from pulling something new out of his utility belt. Soft light shone over their man's hand before _it_ was tucked away again, it's job over in a heartbeat.

"Results coming through now, Sir," Alfred's voice echoed in the ear of Batman's cowl. A private frequency to be sure, but nothing that Power Girl couldn't hear. "Our mystery athlete is one Thomas Banks, a native of Gotham. No priors worth mentioning, but it appears he's undergoing treatment for paranoia and mild drug addiction. ...oh, and it appears that until last week, he was a shift manager at a Wayne Enterprises manufacturing facility."

"This is getting a little west of weird," Power Girl murmured. She could imagine just how many hundreds, if not _thousands_ , of Gothamites Bruce had employed over the years. But the timing was an odd coincidence at the very least. "So, what happened a week ago?"

"It appears," Alfred continued, confident the conversation was kept between the three of them. "- that Mister Banks had several complaints about his conduct and work ethic brought against him. Including an accusation of stealing WayneTech components. His supervisor issued him with a final warning, but Mister Banks did not return to work following the end of his shift. And later, it was discovered that several more inventory had gone missing, though there was no proof of who was responsible."

"Sounds like Banks panicked and took what he could before running," Batman said, looking back down where Thomas Banks lay unconscious.

"Maybe it's time we asked him," Power Girl suggested. Ever since she saw him skulking around in the apartment beneath them, she wanted to shake answers out of him. "I don't suppose you keep some kind of Bat-sniffing salts in the belt…?"

"Of course I do," he answered. But surprisingly, he bent low and grabbed the slumped figure by the ankle instead. He ignored his utility belt as he lifted the dead weight of the body up and moved to the edge of the building, dangling Banks more than a dozen stories above the ground. "Wake up!" he barked.

Thomas Banks stirred, blinking in the light, and mumbling in confusion as he tried to work out where he was and what had happened. Hundreds of feet below him a car horn blared, and a look of horror spread across his features as he realised the moving spots of colour was Manhattan's traffic. He let out a wail and began kicking about, panicking, and fighting what must have surely been a horrible nightmare.

"We want to talk to you, Banks," Bruce growled again, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 'The Bat-voice,' Atlee had called it. 'For making thugs and ladies shake all over.'

Karen couldn't tell if she was joking or not and wasn't game enough to ask.

"Who are you?" Banks wailed, still busily looking "up" at the dizzying ground above him as he dangled upside down. "And how d'you know who I am?!" It was effortless for Bruce to lift the frightened suspect up, turning him around and forcing him to face him. Sightless lenses met saucer-wide eyes.

"I'm Batman," was the only answer he got before Banks found himself being jerked about. "Now tell us why you're here!"

Power Girl watched with no small amount of satisfaction as her suspected-bomber began wailing, babbling for mercy and release. Privately, she was glad Bruce was handling the interrogation. She'd have had no issue with letting him drop, waiting until the last second before swooping down and saving him from a sudden stop on the pavement.

"I was here to grab the trigger!" Banks cried, coughing and refusing to look at the ground. "The radio box that's not there anymore!"

"We've already found your toy," Batman muttered. "Just as we know it was assembled with parts stolen from Starrware. Who built it? Why target Karen Starr? And who's willing to bomb an entire office to get to her?!"

"Not an office," Banks coughed again, but this time there was laughter in his voice. Some unhinged sound. "Just _her_. The bitch deserves it for all the trouble she's caused." The two heroes exchanged a look. It was part of a confession, but far from everything they wanted to know.

"Starr's a humanitarian," Batman muttered. "And _you_ are a tech thief, Banks. Explain yourself."

Banks laughed again. There was a little determination in him now. He looked almost justified, despite being hung over the edge of a high-rise by Batman. "I didn't build it. I was a manager, not a code monkey. I _wish_ I was smart enough to make it, but that's not my role. I'm one of many, and we all preach his message."

" _Who's message_?" Batman hoisted him up once more, bending low and glaring behind his cowl.

"He reached out to me," Banks breathed. "Opened my eyes and showed me the way things really are. I liberated the parts he needed, and when the time came, I delivered the snare that would cut down another snake of oppression. A cancer on the common man."

"I'm losing my patience with you," Batman hissed. But Banks giggled, glaring daggers at the dark knight's cowled face.

"They reached out to me," he repeated. "They saw me for what I am. _Special_. I'll never betray them. Look around." Flailing, upside-down and still hanging precariously, he waved at the skyline around them. "The sun's up. You don't kill. And this _isn't_ Gotham. I'm not afraid of some freak in a Halloween costume."

"Mind if I have a word?" Power Girl asked. Banks immediately began squirming, trying to place where this new voice came from. But his world spun as Batman lifted him back from the edge and threw him a few feet away with a careless toss.

"Be my guest," he said as the caped woman hovered above their fallen suspect. With the sun behind her, she cast a long shadow over him. He squinted behind his hand as he rolled over, trying in vain to see who she was before awareness seemed to dawn on _hi_ m. A bolt of superheated energy lashed out from her eyes, narrowly missing him and burning a hole in his collar. Banks cried as burnt cotton stung his nose and he began to hyperventilate, recalling Power Girl from earlier.

"You're going to tell me _exactly_ who you work for, where you met them, and _why_ a bomb you planted sent an innocent woman to the emergency room this morning." Power Girls eyes began to glow angrily red again as her fists balled at her sides. "And you'll tell me _now!_ "

"You won't kill me," he said, but there was a waver of uncertainty in his voice. "You're a hero. Like Superman." Power Girl's heat vision slashed towards him once again, cutting a scar on the rooftop beside his leg. Not hot or intense enough to break the foundation, but strong enough to send the message.

"Do I _look_ like Superman to you?" She bent low, revealing an angry scowl on her face. Banks' eyes flickered over to the black shadow that was Batman, silently appealing for help.

"As you said," he gravelled in an answer. "This isn't my city, and we're a _long_ way from Gotham."

"And I'm out of patience." Power Girl's eyes glowed like hot coals as she landed on the roof, pinning Banks down with a boot on top of his ribcage. "You're right – I won't kill you. But you can live without your manhood." The red of her eyes burned brighter as she turned her head, glaring at the spot between his legs, ready to slice into the ground with her heat vision.

"Okay!" The shriek was almost ear-splitting as Banks tried to reach under his dirty button-up shirt. With no small amount of difficulty, he produced a key card on a link chain, like some sacred talisman worn to ward off wickedness. "The docks! Tonight, at nine, there's a meeting, warehouse number-"

"We'll find it," Power Girl interrupted. She snatched the chain and broke it with a squeeze of her fingers, reaching lower and poised to flick Banks in the head. "Bedtime, Banks."

She flicked, striking him across the face and rendering him unconscious once more. With some of her anger ebbing away, she stood and offered the key card over her shoulder, allowing Batman to take it for inspection.

"I'm surprised you didn't catch this earlier with your x-ray vision," he murmured, studying the name and number of a security number on the plastic.

"I did," She said, glaring down at Thomas Banks' figure. "I just didn't feel like going easy on him…" Power Girl sniffed. She expected the ever-serious, always-professional Batman to frown at her or tut, but it would have been worth it..

Instead, she was surprised to turn and find him smirking ever so slightly.

"Keep that up, and we'll have to find a bat for your uniform," he remarked.

Maybe it was thanks to venting some of her frustrations or the satisfaction of finding a fresh lead towards catching her mystery bomber. Whatever the reason, Karen felt her lips curling a little as she arched her eyebrow and shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"I'm not sure you could afford me," she smirked. "Besides – I'm more of the sentimental kind of girl."

"I'm well aware," Batman hummed, turning his attention once more to the unconscious Banks nearby. Power Girl let him work, telling herself that her hobbies and snow globe collection made it pretty obvious she wasn't interested in cash.

After all – master detective or not, even Batman couldn't possibly know about her tank top and sleeping briefs. The ones that were covered with little bat symbols that she picked up from an outlet in Gotham some months ago. Right…?

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Karen found herself back at the hospital, but with Bruce waiting at the entrance with a fresh bunch of flowers. After dropping Thomas Banks off with the local police precinct, the pair had parted ways. She returned to her office, stealthily changing back into her business suit, glasses and red wig before the deluge of phone calls came. Between fending off the media for interviews and proposals from security companies, she was starting to think that Batman had the right idea: she could do with a Lucius Fox of her own, maybe.

While apart, she wasn't sure just what Bruce did with his time. She expected he would have checked into a room and caught up on the sleep that her case had taken from him, or even returned to Gotham for a time. It was an inside joke in the Justice League that he probably developed a rash when he was away from the stone gargoyles for too long. But surprisingly, when she needed to escape from the chaos of her office, he was ready to go at the drop of a hat. It hardly surprised her to find him waiting at the hospital by the time she hopped off the nearest subway.

"One of these days, I'm going to work out how you're able to vanish and reappear without folks like me keeping up," Karen said as she met him. Dressed smart but casual, and holding a bunch of colourful carnations, Bruce Wayne smiled and fell into step beside her as they stepped into the lobby.

"If you do, keep it a secret. You'll drive Clark nuts."

She imagined that it would, too.

It was with mixed feelings that Karen walked through the hallways this time. Their footsteps made loud clicking noises that echoed around them, and the ever-present scent of disinfectant still invaded her nostrils. But there was also the masculine scent of whatever cologne Bruce wore that was easier to focus on. The thump of his heartbeat, so much stronger and healthier than the less fortunate around them. She knew he worked diligently to keep himself in peak condition, but still. It was a welcome distraction.

Besides – he was a handsome man, and she was a woman. There was nothing wrong with a little window shopping, right?

"I've found our warehouse tonight, too," he murmured as they walked. "The Eastside, facing Gotham and the Hudson. If their day shift is a skeleton crew, I can only imagine how many others like Banks will be in attendance tonight."

"Someone's been a busy boy," Karen hummed. And to think – she assumed he'd just go and sleep like a normal, non-Batman person. Silly Kara. "Points of entry?"

"Two – not including any that _some_ of us may make," Bruce said, giving her a sideways look. Karen put a hand to her chest, pretending to look offended.

"I'm shocked and hurt that you'd imply something there, Bruce."

"I'm sure you'll heal, too," he remarked, and Karen realised that she had officially joined the short list of Justice Leaguers who enjoyed an actual repartee with Batman.

"You're lucky I like you," she hummed, arriving at the door of Charlotte's room and giving him a coy glance.

"Likewise," was all he said, in that insufferably smooth Bruce Wayne playboy persona. And a sudden, irrational annoyance settled over her. For a fraction of a second, she wanted to reach up and flick him in the head for it, too. But Karen stomped the urge down, narrowing her eyes as he looked away before holding the door open for her.

"Charlotte…? How are you feeling?" It was a relief to see that the younger woman was awake once again, and with a little more colour on her face. She sat up with a smile.

"Twice in one day, Miss Starr? I'm taking too much of your time!"

"Like hell you are," Karen urged, pulling a seat close and sitting down. She almost felt Bruce hovering back and, her sudden irritability gone, she made a noise and gestured to him. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind, but I've brought a friend along. Charlotte, this is Bruce."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Stein," he said in that charming, affable way of his. He stepped forward and gently took her hand in his, squeezing it softly and earning a little flush of colour on Charlotte's cheeks. Not that Karen could blame her – he was able to act like quite the ladies man when he wanted to. Of course, she knew better. After all, that's all it was. An act. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought some flowers for your room. Though I see you have _much_ nicer ones, already."

"Ah, yes. Karen did today," she explained, flushing brighter.

"Well, I trust her sense of colour over mine any day," Bruce smiled, and Karen could almost see the younger woman's ovaries about to explode. And the worst part was, Bruce was being nothing more than a handsome gentleman. There wasn't a trace of phoney, drunken, lady-killing mischief about him. "I think I'll see if I can't find another vase, all the same. Be back in a moment."

As soon as the door shut behind him, Charlotte let out a squeak. "Karen! Was _he_ your date last night?" Karen blinked hard.

"With _Bruce_? Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "No, his name was Frank. And he was… well…" She trailed off. In truth, she'd hardly even thought about Franklin since everything happened. And when stacked up to someone like Batman, well… what could she possibly say?

"Frank's got a bit more of a funny bone than Bruce has," she settled with. Sure, he was also good looking, but now thanks to Charlotte, she couldn't help but compare Frank to a man like Bruce. And it wasn't a fair fight _at all_.

"Anyway!" Karen clapped her hands, eager to change the subject. "I know this might be awkward to talk about, Charlotte, but I have to ask – do you remember much of what happened last night…?"

Charlotte's face screwed up a little, and it hurt Karen to think that she was making her focus on something so horrible. But it was something both she and Bruce firmly agreed on – as a witness, she wasn't just valuable: she was potentially in danger.

"Not really," she said carefully, her brows knitting together as she tried to concentrate. "There were two boxes just inside the lobby door. Just… parcels, really. One from Italy, and the other from New York, so I guessed they were just dropped off by a courier. But they were both addressed to you, so I took them up to your office." She smiled awkwardly and chewed her lip, but the creases in her forehead spoke volumes about how uncomfortable she was about it all.

"I guessed that your snow globe had arrived, and you'd appreciate having it earlier. I didn't even think about leaving the other box in the mail cart. Guess I messed up, huh?"

"Oh, no. Never." Karen reached out and gently took her hand. "Hey – you know something? You're a _hero_ , Charlotte. Think about it. You saved my life!" She smiled at her, but the IV and monitors and surgical scar she saw sucked some of the strength out of her words. "I'm just sorry it came at this cost."

"Oh, it's okay," Charlotte grinned as the door to the room opened again. "The doctors tell me that there won't be any lasting damage. In fact, if I save up, I may even be able to afford a little light cosmetic work over at the Elliot Memorial Hospital in Gotham. I'm told they're working on some meshes so I won't have to live with a plate in my arm."

"Actually," came Bruce's voice as he appeared around the curtain, a fresh vase with flowers in his hand. "I happen to know some of the staff over there. If you do decide you want to try something, Miss Stein, I'm sure we'll be able to give you the VIP treatment. After all – you're quite the superhero for saving Karen's life."

Charlotte's cheeks went tomato red, and she giggled. Karen could only smirk. Even if it was something as clinical as surgery, Bruce was able to make things seem so glamorous and flattering. But, then, he had been both bankrupt and a billionaire over and again, more times than the ex-President Luthor. Of course, he was a natural when it came to spinning an accident.

"I was just telling her that," she smirked, all while Bruce came on the other side of Charlotte's bed and placed the flowers down. He gave Karen a sideways look before leaning closer to the young woman, speaking in a stage-whisper.

"Great minds think alike, Miss Stein."

Karen sighed. She couldn't get annoyed at Bruce's coy little act. It was perhaps the most bashful and excited she'd ever seen Charlotte, and he wasn't doing anything inappropriate. Not like what Kal - Clark - wrote about him doing from time to time, like absconding with Russian gymnasts. Though she would bet good money that it was all fabricated, anyway.

"Well, as long as the tv has more channels in Gotham, sign me up," Charlotte grinned. "I had no idea how awful daytime shows had become!"

"I couldn't say," Bruce smiled easily. "I usually only tune in if there's an old re-run of _The Grey Ghost_."

"Knock knock," came a sudden new voice from the doorway. A doctor strolled in looking at a clipboard before he glanced up and made a surprised face, clearing his throat. "Oh, I'm sorry, but visiting hours are about to end for the day."

"Right, of course," Karen agreed. She didn't like leaving Charlotte be, but at least with the visiting hours over with, she would be safe from anyone with Banks' level of mania. All the same…

"A joy to meet you again, Miss Stein," Bruce said, smiling as he once again squeezed her hand gently and moved out of the way. Karen bent low and quietly asked for one more moment, grateful that Bruce immediately nodded and left the room.

"So, this is… _odd_ , but I want you to have something for now." Karen reached into her pocket and withdrew a small, discreet Justice League distress beacon – nothing more than a small, bevelled box with a button in the middle. "Your new friend _Power Girl_ gave me this to give to you," she said with a wink, loving how Charlotte's eyes lit up when she mentioned that they were friends.

"Miss Starr! What… what is it?" She held it carefully, like it was a delicate egg.

"It's for emergencies only," Karen said. "Keep it close and don't let the doctors take it from you. Hide it in your bedside table if need be. But… here's the thing." She took the younger woman's hand reassuringly. "I don't want to scare you. The hospital will soon be closed for visitors, and that's good. But until we know who's responsible for the bombing, you may be at risk."

"You really think…?" Charlotte's eyebrows knitted together again, and Karen held a palm up to try and soothe her.

"It's only a precaution. But! If you suspect anything is wrong, or you get a guest you don't recognise – anything at all like that – you press this button. And Power Girl or someone else from the Justice League will be here as soon as possible."

"I'm not sure all this fuss is really necessary, Miss Starr," she said awkwardly. But Karen was having none of it.

"It most certainly is. You're a hero now yourself, remember? Bruce and I _both_ said so." She stood and smiled as Charlotte tucked the beacon down beneath the covers of the bed, nodding.

"Miss Starr…? I think I may have a concussion," Charlotte admitted quietly a moment later. Karen frowned.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your friend, Bruce? He looks like _Bruce Wayne_."

"Oh…" It was her turn to lean closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "It's okay – he _is_ Bruce Wayne." Behind her fake glasses, Karen winked as Charlotte turned beet red. And then she turned and waved goodbye, leaving the room before the doctor had a chance to come back and chase her out. Behind her, through the wall, her heightened hearing caught Charlotte softly gasping in amazement.

"Sorry for the wait," Karen said, joining Bruce in the hallway outside. He nodded, once again becoming quiet and impassive now that they were once again alone.

"Perfectly fine," he mused as they began walking together towards the exit. And then quietly, out of the blue, he asked: "You loaned her a distress beacon?"

Karen felt her eyebrow arch. "You really _are_ the world's greatest detective, aren't you?"

"I try. Also…" He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small component, of similar shape and design to the one she had given Charlotte. Only, of course, it was black and shaped like a bat, with a more advanced look about it. Karen laughed and shook her head.

"Great minds think alike," she hummed as they strolled through the lobby before her playfulness got the better of her. "So. _The Grey Ghost_ , huh?"

"A masked hero who fought crime from the shadows. We all have our childhood heroes, Karen."

"Oh, no need to explain it to me. I caught a few episodes when I landed back in Kansas. Simon Trent was such an easy crush to have," she grinned. And Bruce laughed. It was a rich timbre that came up from his chest and was pleasant to listen to.

"Great minds, indeed."

* * *

 _AN: My better half and I both agree that in his prime, Adam West was a handsome, foxy bugger. So why wouldn't his TAS alter ego Simon Trent be, too? Easy crushes, indeed!_


	6. Crashing The Party

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _6 - Crashing The Party_

* * *

Power Girl whistled as she gazed through layers of brick and steel, peering down into the warehouse below them. The sun had set, and the streetlamps had switched on, casting spots of lights along the east coast of Manhattan. The warehouse on the pier seemed quiet on the outside, but she watched another two figures slipping in through a gate with their key cards, winding in between containers as they made their way to the main building. Already more than a dozen others were loitering inside, talking and waiting.

"Gotta hand it to our man, Banks," she remarked, blinking as her vision returned to normal. Kneeling beside her, Batman kept a keen gaze on the inside of the chain link fence. "He's got a lot of friends inside."

"And at least six armed guards outside," he added. She's caught sight of those, too. Not your run of the mill security contractors, she was guessing. Not unless they were allowed to carry semi-automatic rifles instead of handguns, these days. "Not that they'll be too much of a problem for – what?"

She frowned and patted herself as she felt something vibrating against her hipbone. Power Girl smothered the urge to cough awkwardly as she turned around and popped a small phone from her narrow utility belt. A quick glance at the screen and she sniffed. Of all the times to call, he chose then?

She took a quick glance over her shoulder to see that Bruce hadn't moved from his perch before her boots left the ground. She hovered a few feet away towards the other end of the rooftop, wetting her lips before she answered her phone in a hushed tone. "Ah, Frank? Not the best time, ki - hon." She squeezed her eyes shut, painfully aware of how close she came to calling him "kid."

"Hey, Karen! How are you? I tried calling earlier today – is everything alright? I heard you were on the news this morning."

"Yeah, no, things are… mostly fine." She frowned before leaning back, studying the curved, red tile in her hand. Her clever concealed communicator (or triple-c, as she liked to call it), behaved much like a Bluetooth for Karen Starr's personal cell phone when it was switched on. The handful of people who knew her best, knew that she had no reason to miss a call.

But Frank didn't know her best. He only knew part of her story. And what seemed like harmless, social fun for her alter ego suddenly felt draining to even consider.

Was it any wonder she screened his call at the hospital?

"Well, I was wondering, did you want to get a bite…? We have to make up for the other night, still."

"Last night," she reminded him. "And… sorry, but now's really not the best time."

"Oh… Okay." The tone she heard was something between a kicked puppy and general moodiness. "If you need help with something, I can swing by right now if you like?" And all at once, she remembered that Frank was a nice a gun. A fun guy. But he was a young guy, and as charming and polite as he was when they were together, he was just as insecure and needy when they weren't. Once again, she found herself measuring him against another man, older, mature, and honest, like Bruce. And it was a very one-sided comparison.

Power Girl privately wondered if dating an older, taller, busty, wealthy woman who had graced the covers of business magazines was something he just couldn't handle.

Actually, she was almost positive of it.

"Sorry, Frank. But there's nothing you can do to help here. Maybe in the future." It was a weak answer, and they both knew it. Or maybe he didn't just yet. But she cut the call before making any promise to phone him back. Either he'd prove himself more mature and take a step back, or he'd probably tell his friends that Karen Starr was too much of an old nerd for him. Sooner or later, however, he'd get the message.

"Sorry about that," she said as she hovered back over to the edge. Batman hadn't moved, but she wasn't silly enough to think he was clueless about her little exchange.

"Don't be. These things happen," Batman said, surprising her. And then, quieter, he added "sorry to hear it's difficult." Power Girl blinked. She expected him to ignore it entirely. Not offer his condolences.

Karen had no time for pity. She didn't like it, and she didn't want it. But she knew sympathy when she heard it, and nobody had sacrificed more of their personal life than he had.

It was funny, she thought. In some ways, she idolised Bruce Wayne's Batman. She never knew of anyone else who was so dedicated to fighting injustice. But the missions and moments they had together were few and far between, and since Alfred had invited her to the Batcave a scant day before, she was learning more about the man than the myth.

"Kal – well, Clark – he and Lois have been together for a long time now, haven't they?"

"Feels like forever," Batman agreed. "Clark decided to share his life with her. All parts of it. He's a braver man than I am."

"Now that's something I never thought I'd hear," she smirked. The swift look Batman gave her promised he would be quick to deny it if pushed. But Power Girl thought about what he said, and her face softened. "So stop me if I'm being nosy, but there's nobody like that for you…? No one who's known both sides of the bat?"

"Some," he said, surprising her once again. She expected him to brush the question away. But it seemed curiosity – and fortune – truly did favour the bold. "But never for very long. I'm not sure anyone outside of the League, and maybe only a handful of us inside it, knows quite what it's like. To have to choose."

Power Girl didn't need an explanation. She was, without bragging to anybody, a genius. Karen Starr could think and react at speeds faster than light. She could imagine what happened when someone thought they snagged Gotham's most eligible bachelor, only to wind up discovering he was the Batman. And married to his work, on top of it. It was a hard act for a girl to follow.

Well, most girls.

"You know Diana better than I do," she began. "Are she and Steve still a thing…? That's playing life on hard mode." Although, she imagined some guys liked having a girlfriend that was taller, tougher and could crush heads with her thighs.

"If someone's worth it, they'll make it work," Batman hummed. And that was that. There wasn't much else to say, really. Certainly nothing smart that she could add.

Power Girl was happy to keep her past "romance" with Vartox a secret. It was a cheesy story to share with Frank, but she just didn't want to air that little embarrassment in front of Bruce.

"So – when do you want to crash their little party?" She peered over the edge, focusing on the armed sentries around the warehouse. Time had passed comfortably, and it wouldn't be long before Banks' supposed meeting was set to start. "I could grab those gun guys fast, but red, white and blue tends to stand out." She smirked and gave him a pointed look.

"It's your city," Batman remarked, but there was some defiant little tone of suggestiveness buried in there. After spending a day with him, she was sure that she was learning all the little signs and sounds that he communicated with.

"Well," she sighed, her boots touching the ground as she spun around and crossed her arms. "If you're going to put it that way, I suppose I'll just… eh?" There was a flapping sound, like a cape on the wind, and Power Girl turned back to where Batman had been standing a moment before. The rooftop was empty save for her, and as she glanced over the edge, she had to strain to see any sign of him. But she knew that the cape and cowl he wore was lined with lead, and not even looking here and there with her x-ray vision revealed his hiding spot.

"How does he do that?" she grumbled sourly to herself.

* * *

Batman watched as patrol patterns revealed themselves. It was standard and predictable. The only challenge he saw was in the firepower of the rifles. The body armour spread through his suit would stop a handful of rounds, but after that, he would be in trouble. And gunfire would draw the attention of the rest, including the gathering inside the warehouse. But the shadows were his ally, and he trained for years not to be seen when he didn't want to.

So, when the first guard ambled past, he never got a shot off before a gloved hand covered his mouth from behind. A swift boot knocked his legs out from underneath him, and it became hard to breath. Or look, or even think. He passed out a second later before Batman dragged him out of sight, allowing him to slump to the ground. A moment afterwards his rifle was deposited next to him, neatly disassembled, the pieces scattered about carelessly.

The second guard kept a lower profile, stalking back and forth in front of a shipping container. He glanced around a lot, not unlike a bird, and stealth was traded for swiftness. Batman perched above and dropped as the rifleman passed beneath him. Muscular legs clamped around his neck in a sleeper hold, taking him out as efficiently as the first. Batman allowed the body to carefully fall before he followed, once again dragging him away and out of sight.

On the rooftop above, Power Girl's eyebrows were up in her bob of golden hair. She'd watched Batman move before. He fought with speed and skill that at times seemed beyond human. Reactions were instant, and strikes were precise. But it was a rare treat to see 'Batman, the predator' in action. Watching as gun-toting maniacs began to disappear one by one, pulled helplessly into the shadows before losing a fight they had no chance with, was pretty damn satisfying to watch.

'Okay, maybe I need a night off,' she thought, realising that she was entirely too close to jumping and cheering "yeah!" as Bruce connected a series of strikes to the fourth guard's ribcage and jaw. Just an evening to unwind. Maybe meet somebody for a drink or a meal…

Then she remembered Franklin and the thought soured. With how long it had been since she had a real relationship, maybe it was time to dial back a bit. Perhaps she just needed a night in with Netflix, pizza, her cat and doing her nails, instead. ' _Which is pretty sad when you're an invincible knockout rich girl_.'

Power Girl pinched the bridge of her nose. What she really needed was to find whoever organised a bomb to be sent to her office and slap them silly. For the sake of poor Charlotte in the hospital and her own sanity. Then she'd be able to get back to life as she knew it and worry about the other things later. Batman – Bruce – was right. One day she'll find the right person, and hard of not, she'd make it work out. Both Power Girl and Karen Starr loved a good challenge.

"We're clear," Batman announced from down below. She peeked about, finding that sure enough, the final two guards slumped against one another beneath a catwalk. Judging from the bent rifle barrel, things had gone from stealthy to surprising, and Power Girl pouted.

"Wow – I actually missed something from daydreaming," she mumbled to herself, hopping off the rooftop and swooping down to the dockyard. Her small half-cape fluttered as she pulled up at the last moment, boots crunching against wet cement as she landed. "If I look like I'm eager to hurt some bad guys, that's only because I am."

"You hide it well," he hummed. Power Girl was sure now that the next time she met Dinah Lance, she could cash in on their age-old bet – Batman did have a sense of humour. "How many are inside?"

"Fourteen – twelve on the ground floor, and two exits including a boat slip around the back." Power Girl waited until they arrived at the main doors before she put her lips together, puffed her cheeks and blew. Within seconds, a thick sheet of ice had formed over the locks and handles. "And now it's just one way out. Not counting windows and fragile walls."

"I'll leave the walls in your care," he replied. Power Girl watched as he withdrew a grapple gun and fired upwards, hearing it find purchase around some rigging before it drew him upwards. She snorted as his cape vanished over the edge of the rooftop.

"Oh, no you don't," she said, taking to the air. Within seconds she floated above the warehouse, watching Batman kneeling against the edge of a window. "My city, my lead this time," she told him with a coy look.

"By all means," he said, turning his attention back to the ensemble below them and pointing. "So long as you handle those two first." She followed his eye, finding another pair of patrolling guards on an upper catwalk. Both were armed to the teeth.

"Only because you said ' _please_ ,'" she smirked, swooping away to the other side of the building before he could argue that he hadn't. Because after the last day of working together, she wasn't sure she could help but argue back that he had – only not in so many words.

Power Girl hovered outside of the east wall, scanning over the crowd within with her x-ray vision. It was such an odd assortment. They all seemed very typical – dressed down, a little scruffy. Nothing too drastic for an average New Yorker. But as she focused a little harder, their skeletal profiles revealed just how weathered they all were. Most of the men had old fractures scattered across their limbs. Some had a plate or pins, and one even had an artificial hip. She hazarded a guess that if she were to peel back the onion layers, she would find signs of drug abuse or alcoholism.

"Power Girl." She was so busy scanning over the gathering that she hadn't noticed a new figure stepping out from an office at the stroke of nine, broad and bold with a straight spine. Batman's voice continued to echo quietly in her ear. "I know that man. I believed he was dead." She dialled her vision back, inspecting the figure. He was tall, almost statuesque, with a shock of white hair and black robes. But a quick glance beneath the skin revealed nothing more than average human anatomy.

"Who is he?" she asked, her eyebrows knitted together. He seemed like some ordinary older man, albeit confident with the way he carried himself.

"Deacon Blackfire," Batman answered, and there was a note of bitterness in his voice. "A self-styled evangelist. Years ago, he converted the poor of Gotham into a cult following. Many people died in his name. I had always believed that his followers took his life when they learned of his deception."

"Stranger things have happened to us," Power Girl remarked quietly, as Blackfire's figure stood above the assembly and raised his hands. Immediately the crowd below fell silent, gazing up at him with reverence.

"My children," Blackfire began, oozing charisma and affection. "I am so proud of you. For last night, a brave soldier took the initiative in trying to rid our world of a true demon." He spoke with an airy voice, striding back and forth like he was performing for a late-night cable channel.

Karen wanted to punch him already.

"This child came to me, pledging his services. He liberated several of the parts from the wicked Bruce Wayne. Sinful elements not made of the Lord's hand. But when married with the baubles taken last week, we conceived the tools of their destruction!" A round of applause erupted from below, and he raised his hands, calming the crowd below.

"Silence, my children! Yes, it is true. The Lord God works in ironic ways, delivering the fiery brimstone of hell to the evil faces of our assumed masters. For when death came calling last night for one Karen Starr, it came in the form of a tool made from her own consumerism, carried to the top of her ivory tower on angelic wings!"

Power Girl narrowed her eyes, clenching a fist at her side. Charlotte lay in the hospital while a rip-off preacher crowed about it. If she were alone, she might have taken half the warehouse down with a swat of her hand and shaken Blackfire until he had whiplash. But she remembered what Bruce said months ago: "Kara – you're one of the best."

It was cheesy, but it made her want to live up to that ideal. It kept her from lashing out in anger just yet. But only just. "I want to hurt this man, Bat," she whispered.

"I know," he answered." But men like Blackfire are compelled to reveal as much of their plan as possible. "Wait just a little longer."

He was right, of course. Batman always was. Deacon Blackfire once again lifted his hands, and a hush fell over the gathering. "My children, it is true that the she-devil dodged God's justice last night. But a mere delay will not postpone her judgement forever. For too long, the so-called 'elite' have used their wealth and their decadence to lord over us. But know that in this very house of God, we will build the tools to topple their empire, with their own sordid creations!"

"Power Girl." Batman's voice echoed in her ear. "We've heard enough. Take him." A flush of excitement and pride coursed through her – something was empowering in the way Batman spoke. He was a natural leader, after all.

And it was about time she showed off some of her skills.

Deacon Blackfire raised his hands and looked towards the heavens, crying for the blessings of God. An instant later, she exploded through the wall, a blur of white and red and blue. Power Girl hovered for a moment as every eye trained on her. And then she moved. First to her left, battering an armed guard away with a careless backhand. Then across the other side, crushing a rifle in her hands before it had begun to train on her.

"You boys have been very naughty," she announced to the warehouse. Her knuckles cracked loudly as she glared at the dumbfounded cultist. "So, I'm just going to have to take away your toys and ground you all."

"Demon!" Blackfire cried accusingly. "Pretender! Listen not to the words of this heathen! Take her, my children!"

But whatever sway he held over his audience seemed to wane as they weighed their chances with the woman who was able to fly and shatter walls like tissue paper. They looked about themselves, trying to determine where to go and what to do next.

"Be not deceived by her sinful figure!" Blackfire cried, pointing towards her. "The false-God takes the form of temptation itself!"

"Hey – I can't help my figure, creep," Power Girl sneered. She turned and tensed before a ribbon of superheated light fired from her eyes. The catwalk was neatly cut up one side and down the other, sending the crying preacher tumbling to the floor below. "And I'm not greedy," she announced. "Feel free to join at any time." The startled gathering looked about with confusion. Had the she-demon really issued a challenge to them…?

But whatever anxiety they had tripled as the window above them shattered. A monstrous, black creature dropped down from above, leading one of the men to scream.

"She's summoned a devil!"

"You wish," Batman growled, landing in a crouch before rising to his full stature. "I'm _much_ _worse_."

Hell erupted in the warehouse as the gathering shouted and jumped. With the metahuman, the stuff of legends, they were mostly confused and frightened. But Blackfire had been sure to condition them for a fight with Batman. Whether they thought he was human and easy, or a creature of evil, they found the nerve to strike.

But Batman was Batman, and he swung a right hook strong enough to send teeth flying out of his nearest assailant's mouth. Two more followed suit as he moved like a wraith, connecting a fist and a boot to each of their ribcages and sent them scattering. Another had managed to put his hands on a metal bar and rushed forward with a scream. The Bat's dark figure slowly turned, and the acolyte steeled himself to strike down the wicked bat.

But he was unprepared for "divine intervention" as Power Girl appeared in front of him at the last second, reaching up and neatly catching the pipe in her palm. "I don't think so," she warned him, yanking it out of his hand and crushing the head. The weapon was tossed away behind her shoulder, and she gave him a weak punch, sending him flying backwards into a pair of panicking men. All three were down and out before the pipe bounced and rolled away in the distance.

Together the heroes worked in tandem, a flurry of blue and black fists. Dedicated or fearful, the gathering of "brothers" was soon left slumped on the floor. All that remained was Deacon Blackfire, who gazed up at the pair with a chilling look on his gaunt face.

"God truly favours me if he delivered you here tonight, Bat," he whispered. Batman reached down and grabbed the preacher's collar, lifting him up with a grunt and leaving him dangling above the floor.

"You have a warped sense of fortune, Blackfire," he snarled. But the cultist grinned wide, spittle spraying from his lips as he shook his head.

"Arrogance is your undoing," he sighed. "For last night was Starr's turn, but tonight? The world of Gotham's most insufferable parasite ends." The deacon formed a thin-lipped smile as he whispered one word: "Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne isn't some random rich guy," Power Girl huffed with her arms crossed. "I'm pretty sure he can handle a nutcase in a bathrobe like you."

"Overconfident succubus," Blackfire spat. "Did you think I hid away all this time…? This has been in action for months, now. Tonight, that egotistical symbol – Wayne Tower – burns like a candle in God's house. Wayne either perishes tonight or will wake to find himself another of the many he's stepped upon."

Blackfire's lips curled into a tight grin before Batman's fist collided with him, knocking the preacher unconscious and dropping his form without ceremony. An instant later he was touching his ear within his cowl, activating whatever private link he had to Alfred in the Batcave. "Penny-One – phone Lucius. Tell him to evacuate Wayne Enterprises immediately, then organise a police patrol to secure the docks here. At least twenty people are ready for incarceration."

"Batman." Power Girl frowned. He didn't show it, but she heard the faint increase in Bruce's heartbeat. Saw a glimpse of his nostrils flaring. The minute signs of anxiety.

If there was one constant in the world, it was that Batman was in Gotham City. Even the Green Lantern Corp – the actual space police – considered it a black hole on their maps. And she had dragged him away from it. Never mind that when the city was in danger, he almost always preferred to handle it alone. "Manhattan's my responsibility – you should get yourself back to Gotham as soon as possible." Silently, she hoped he would forgive her.

But, like so many other things in the past twenty-four hours, he surprised her yet again.

"I will. But even with the Batwing, I'll lose time I don't have." He looked at her, and even without seeing past his cowl, she could almost feel an intense look coming off of him. "I need a favour."

Power Girl felt her heart skip a beat. "Name it."


	7. The Bright Knight

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _7 - The Bright Knight_

* * *

Power Girl cut a path through the night sky, streaking over the Hudson and into Gotham City in a matter of seconds. She would have moved faster if not for the build-up of energy in such a populated area. She cruised across the islands that formed the foundations until she finally arrived at the tallest landmark, complete with a glass observation deck and railway lines stretching off in all the compass directions.

Kal was right – Gotham was a headache. Not so much for the twisted, Tim Burton-esque architecture. Her issue lay in its very foundations. Some structures had sunk – due to Earthquakes and age – and the city had merely built on top of them. With her x-ray vision, they appeared like giant blots of ink, so soaked with lead as they were. Other buildings kept the old facades but were converted into nightclubs or offices. The cables that ran behind the brickwork resembled glowing veins in some great beast.

'Okay,' she thought. 'This city really does need a different kind of superhero.'

Wayne Tower was just as old and hard to look at, despite being upgraded and overhauled repeatedly. She appreciated that Bruce probably designed so much of the inner structure to keep sneaky people out, but circling the base three times and coming up short was frustrating. Especially while she was searching for Blackfire's jury-rigged explosives. And judging by his boast that the tower would burn, she was expecting a lot of them.

Instead, all she saw was glimpses of cars moving underground and figures crammed inside elevators inside. No doubt the night staff evacuating.

"Hello…? Miss Starr? This is the Batcave calling." Alfred Pennyworth's voice never sounded so welcoming in her ear.

"Go ahead, ah… Batcave? Penny One?"

"Whichever you prefer, Miss Starr," he answered. Thank Rao for Alfred.

"I'm outside Wayne Tower," she reported, zipping up around the railway lines until she came to the terminal at the base. Nobody was waiting for a train, but a glance at the timetable revealed there wasn't any to wait for. It would have been a perfect hiding place for Blackfire's explosives, but it took her a scant few seconds to thoroughly search in and around the station. And once again finding nothing. "I'm having trouble seeing through the walls here, and the staff are still evacuating, so I can't go rushing in and out of every fire escape."

"Mister Fox is still inside the CEO's office near the top floor of the tower. He should be able to provide any answers you need."

"On it," she reported, taking to the air once more. ' _Huh – so this is what it's like to work on Team Batman. Nicer tech support than the Birds of Prey_.' Her boots landed on a reinforced balcony, and she hesitated to knock at the shutter, uncertain if she could make an adequate tap without shattering any window pane behind it.

"Hello…? Lucius Fox?" Before she could react, a lens appeared beside the shutter, and a flash of light appeared. A computerised voice announced a short warning: "Stand back, please." Karen blinked, her thoughts racing. Was she on some Batcave friend-or-foe list to get access to Batman's civilian office? Was all the Justice Leaguers on it?

... was it ranked, and if so, where did she sit on it?

But her idle thoughts vanished as the shields slid away, revealing the richly decorated office of Bruce Wayne. Or, more realistically, the office of Lucius Fox, who stood nearby with a tablet computer.

"Good evening, Miss Power Girl," he welcomed her with a warm voice as the glass door slid open. "Welcome to Wayne Tower. Though I understand it's not the most ideal of circumstances."

"Right," she said carefully, wondering how much Fox knew. Wayne Enterprises was the public face of Batman Inc., but still. She wasn't some Teen Titan who hadn't learned how to be careful. "I understand there's an attempt on Bruce Wayne's life. If he hasn't evacuated already, we'd be wise to move him before – " She trailed off as Lucius shook his head, an amused twinkle in his eye.

"I assure you, I'm very aware of who Mister Wayne really is," he said. "Though I applaud you for the initiative you've practised just now."

If not for the crisis, and the task that Bruce entrusted her with, she would have been tempted to ask if Fox was secretly a drunken heartbreaker, acting like a calm and professional man. But she said nothing, and he tapped away at the screen on his tablet before depositing it on the desk. The floor in the office immediately shifted, revealing several light emitters.

Power Girl's eyes widened as a blue light bathed the office, forming a three-dimensional layout of the entire tower. "Mister Fox," she began. Bruce Wayne trusted Lucius, and Karen trusted Bruce's judgement. "I find myself needing to remake my office back in Manhattan. When this is over, I'd like to make you an offer to come by and make it as incredible as this one."

"Then let us hope we're both around to discuss it, Miss Power Girl," he said, as calmly as possible. "The Batwing has already been scrambled to collect Mister Wayne from across the river, but in the meantime, these sections here…" He gestured as several parts of the hologram began to flash. "They indicate repairs over the last few months. However, they've all been covered with a leaden shelf afterwards to minimise their security threat."

"That explains the dots I see everywhere," she muttered. "The device at Starrware was detonated by a radio frequency that had to be as close as possible due to the use of blast-proof windows. I imagine what you have here puts their reinforcements to shame."

"We may not have many metahumans in Gotham like yourself, but Wayne Enterprises remains a favourite target for many Arkham residents."

"At least you can guess when they're on the way," she murmured, her arms crossing over her chest. "I'm not even hearing any… wait." She squinted as her hearing picked out an odd rolling noise. A shuffling, steady turning of wheels. A train.

"Your timetable down below say you have no public trains active before morning. Does Wayne Enterprises receive shipments by rails?"

"On occasion," Lucius answered before frowning. "That said, we're not due for anything for… more than a week, I believe."

"Well, you're getting one," Power Girl said, concentrating a little harder. "From… here, the north line." A gloved finger gestured towards one of the many lines that converged beneath the tower. Her eyebrows knitted together. "How strong are the supports beneath this tower?"

"They've been improved since the earthquake that caused the No Man's Land incident. Of course, depending on the payload, it's possible that the overall structure could be weakened significantly."

"There's also the evacuating staff to consider," Power Girl thought aloud, watching as banks of elevators continued moving to different floors. "… does Bruce always keep so many people working so late for him?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow.

"It's Gotham City," Lucius smiled. "Of an evening, the safest place to be is this tower. It's why so many people request the night shift."

"Can't argue with that," she muttered. Power Girl glanced at the layout once more and, confident she had committed it to memory, turned away from the projection. "Tell Bruce – well, Batman – that I'm going to investigate that train. These guys think they're working for some 'higher power' and know how to make bombs, and that's a dangerous combination."

"I wish you speedy luck, Miss Power Girl," Lucius Fox smiled, tucking his hands behind his back.

"Thanks!" she called behind her as she jumped over the railing, twisting in mid-air and accelerating down the north line.

* * *

Power Girl wondered if anybody was quietly phoning the hardworking Jim Gordon and telling the GCPD that a rogue train was rolling along the north line late at night. Not so much because the tracks were meant to be empty, but because it was stripped down to one engine and a single car. And in a city like Gotham, that was suspicious on its own.

She gave it a quick peek from above with her x-ray vision, unsurprised to find it at least one driver and four other members of Deacon Blackfire's "flock" in the carriage. Along with more than a dozen beeping, glowing bundles they played with. She idly wondered if they planned to blow themselves up to topple the reign of "billionaire bad boy Bruce Wayne."

"Cults – gotta love 'em," she muttered darkly, matching the engine in speed as she flew alongside and opened the door.

Blackfire's driver looked like he knew what he was doing, hands on the throttle and door control. When everything was over, she guessed that there would be some digging to find just how far the Deacon's influence had spread. For now, the driver turned and stared as she flew inside and planted her feet on the deck, shrugging her shoulders. "Don't mind me – I've just always wanted to play with a train…"

Power Girl trailed off as she realised the substitute driver wasn't listening. He was too busy staring with glassy eyes at the window on her chest, revealing her full cleavage. 'Ugh,' she mentally groaned. One step brought her forwards, and she flicked him in the head, sending him tumbling backwards and crumpling to the floor unconscious.

"Can't go twenty-four hours without that happening," she grumbled, looking over the controls before finding and easing off on the speed. The train jerked and began to grow sluggish along the line. In the car behind her, she heard the remaining four members becoming more alert.

"Did you feel that?"

"We're slowing down."

"It's the Bat, I tell you. He's here!" Power Girl frowned as she heard a firearm loading, followed by another. Of course, she spotted the rifles on the way in, but hadn't thought they were dumb enough to fire while they were handling explosives.

' _And there's a little more faith in humanity lost_ ,' she thought wryly. She placed her gloved hand on the door handle and turned it, prepared to have to talk the fools out of doing something stupid.

"Die, freak!"

Too late. Someone on the other side yelled out before bullets started to spray through the thin armour of the door. Karen frowned and reared back as they began pelting her, bouncing harmlessly off her enhanced figure. But with the shouting and swaying of the firearms, she had to spread her arms and weather the irritating brunt of them all. Otherwise, she'd risk a stray round going into the console, or the knocked-out pervert behind her.

Soon enough the rifled stopped firing, replaced by loud clicks as the clips ran dry. "I'm out!" cried one, before another shouted they were, too.

"Who cares – we must've got that winged devil, now."

"The Lord will be pleased with our work," another sighed. The relief in their voice was palpable.

On the other side, in the engine, Karen glanced down at her uniform. It weathered the best of the attack, but pieces of her thin utility belt were trashed, and the clasp that held her chained cape was shattered. She snapped the final few links and allowed the bullet-ripped fabric to flutter to the floor before her boots left the ground.

After everything that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, Power Girl hit her limit. She grabbed the wrecked door with one hand and squeezed, crushing it like tinfoil before dropping what was left. She recalled watching Bruce work in the dockyards, like some spectre of fear itself. But being shot at made her angry, and now it was her time to be the bright knight of Gotham City.

As she hovered into the car, it dawned on the four faces just how grave a mistake they had made.

"I am _vengeance_ ," she growled, her eyes glowing red. One of the men recovered in time to fiddle with his rifle in an attempt to reload, but a blast of her heat vision sent it scattering out of his hands before it melted into a puddle of slag behind him.

"I am _this night_ ," she continued, clenching her fists. A second thug tried to stop whatever demonic woman they were dealing with, lifting one of the cobbled-together explosives up. Faster than he could react, she snatched it from his hands, blowing against it and turning into a block of ice. She dropped it with an unimpressed thud.

The four of them backed away, finding themselves neatly boxed in by the back of the train car and the furious alien woman hovering above them.

"I am _Power Girl_!" she yelled down at them. And then Kara moved, faster than light. One fell to a punch across the midsection, followed by a right hook. The next two were reeling back before she brought their heads crashing together. The last suffered the least as she spread her palm over his chest and pushed. The wall of the train bent and bubbled outwards as he collided with the frame.

All four cultists slumped to the ground. It almost appeared as if she hadn't even moved once.

"Jerks," she sniffed, turning and blasting what was left of the engine's console with her heat vision. The train groaned and began to slow, dead on the tracks, as the roar of an engine flew overhead. The Batwing appeared in the night sky, and Power Girl checked her earpiece before hailing the craft.

"Power Girl to Batman – I got you a little present."


	8. Case Closed

_It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 **Unlikely Detectives**

 _8 - Case Closed_

* * *

"Welcome back, Miss Starr," Alfred Pennyworth greeted her as she flew in through the secret entrance of Miagani Falls. The butler stood next to a silver pot of tea – the same one he served when she was there the night before, from the smell of it. A brand she complimented him for owning long ago when Bruce helped her out following the Max Lord debacle.

She would offer him a job immediately if she weren't so sure he'd turn her down. Plus, she knew there was a world of difference between her messy apartment and the stately Wayne Manor.

"Well, now I know how it feels to follow a detective along," Power Girl hummed, her boots touching base beside him. "I have to admit, though – I was disappointed that there was no parlour scene with suspects and red herrings."

"If I've learnt anything, Miss Starr, it's that life is never as exciting as fiction makes it out to be."

"Well, I did meet a deranged cult leader and hijacked a train," she mused. "And lost some of my clothes for the effort… So, yeah, this might just be a typical Thursday for me, I suppose." Who needed extra excitement on top of all that?

"And I find myself pouring tea for heroes – so of that, I can agree with you. In the meantime…" Alfred smiled and gestured towards the same chair she sat on the previous evening before he stepped towards a nearby terminal. He returned a moment later with a suit hanger, which he promptly unzipped and opened. Inside lay a red cape, longer than her regular one and complete with the scalloped hem of Bruce's bat suits.

"Alfred, I couldn't," she began, but he merely smiled and offered it to her.

"I insist. It wouldn't be right for a lady to have to travel home with fewer clothes than she came with. Master Bruce used this design for a time many years ago. The reason now escapes me, I'm afraid. I could modify it for you before you leave – "

"No, no," she said, accepting it. "It's fine just the way it is. Besides – I'll hang it up when I get home. Maybe have my own little trophy to remember this adventure." Power Girl removed the cape and swung it over her shoulders, feeling it flutter around the backs of her legs. It was much longer than she was used to, and the way it fell over her shoulders and enveloped her figure felt somewhat exhilarating. Sneaky, even, like she was hiding her potential from the world. 'No wonder Bruce doesn't think twice about rushing into danger,' though she knew it ran deeper than just that.

"It's not as much fun as having a dinosaur," she smiled, jerking her head towards the animatronic Tyrannosaur. "But I have an apartment – not a cave."

"Less is more, Miss Starr," Alfred smiled. He folded the suit bag over his arm and adjusted his tie. "If you'll excuse me, some duties need attention. I'm certain Master Bruce won't be far away, now."

"Of course. And thank you again, Alfred." She sat on her seat, smoothing her newly gifted cape out and pouring herself a cup of tea. "Spoil me like this, and I may just become a regular guest."

"Oh, dear," he murmured, and she grinned and shook her head as Alfred's tone slipped into his dry British wit. "A charming, intelligent woman of taste visiting us. However shall we cope..."

And soon, she was left alone in the infamous Batcave. Far from her first time, and she was starting to think it would be far from her last, too. The entire ordeal with a bomb going off in her office was stressful, but it was good to know she had a friend like Bruce to come and help when called upon.

Not that she doubted it. After all – he was one of the world's finest. Even if he was just a man in a suit and fancy car –

"Oh, hello, there." Power Girl set her teacup down, flashing her eyes around the Batcave with her x-ray vision. The only witnesses were the colony of bats hanging upside down nearby, and she couldn't resist hopping out of her seat and floating over to one of the older Batmobile's parked nearby. A classic model, with red trimming and fins, and a retro bat logo on the doors. The whole design seemed to scream like it was made in the 60's and inspired by The Grey Ghost.

Karen's new cape fluttered around her as she hopped up and into the driver's seat, settling back and running a hand over the wheel. She didn't need to drive. Hell – in Manhattan, Karen Starr used the subway when she wanted to keep a low profile. But that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate a well-built machine when she saw one.

What was it Simon Trent's character used to say in that old show…? "Atomic batteries to power and turbines to speed," she hummed, taking the wheel and pretending to give it a turn.

"Having fun?"

"Rao!" Karen's eyes flew wide, her heart jumping and her cheeks heating up as she turned and found Batman standing nearby, with his cowl down and a thick eyebrow arched. He'd slipped in without her noticing once again. "How do you _do_ that?"

"It's a trade secret," he said.

She cleared her throat and pretended to wipe some dust off the steering wheel as if she were scrutinising it. Just inspecting it. That's all.

And then, after spending twenty-four hours working with him, and confident she knew when the unflappable Bruce Wayne was amused, she crossed her arms and sat back in the seat. "I'm keeping her," she announced. "I'm calling her the Powermobile, and I'm her mom, now."

The playful smile he gave her was worth more than the car, and she grinned as he rolled his shoulders.

"I know when I'm beaten," he simply said, and Power Girl floated out of the driver's seat to take her chair once again. Bruce poured himself a cup of tea and looked her up and down. "It's yours so long as you keep wearing that cape."

"Ah, I can't," she smiled. "It's going under glass when I get home. Decided I'll start collecting more than just snow globes."

"It's a slippery slope," he warned her. And she knew it - the trophy room of the Batcave was more like a museum.

Bruce tapped a few keys on a nearby terminal, and the massive monitor nearby began shifting through screens. Karen recognised the docks they had visited earlier, along with a mugshot of Deacon Blackfire and a growing list of names beside him.

"Blackfire's already been through processing. He'll be transferred back to Arkham Asylum come morning," Bruce explained. "His 'children,' after realising how much trouble they were in, have already begun turning on one another, hoping to cut a deal. They've surrendered everything. Employees who were able to steal components. People with the skills to make the explosives. Everyone."

"Who's this creep?" she asked as a new photo appeared on the Batcomputer monitor. A weathered-looking man with stringy hair and bags under his eyes stared balefully out at them.

"Marcus Whitby," Bruce answered. "Priors include assault, shoplifting, public intoxication and resisting arrest. Treated for mild schizophrenia, but he's had difficulty keeping with his appointments. Just the kind of person that people like Blackfire target and exploit."

Bruce changed the photo to footage of Whitby struggling on the ground, kicking half-heartedly as a police officer handcuffed him. "Thirty minutes ago, he pleaded guilty to delivering an explosive to your office and leaving it on top of another parcel. He's currently in a cell in the upper Manhattan precinct."

Power Girl glared at the video. Part of her wanted to be the one to grab him. Another part of her wanted to throttle him. But he was just one of many, between Banks positioning the trigger, and someone else assembling the device. She sniffed. It didn't make her feel any better, but at least it was over.

"Justice served," she answered instead. It was just as well she didn't get her hands on him first, she decided. Otherwise, she would have gone through with her promise of giving him as many breaks and fractures as Charlotte suffered.

"I told Jim who was responsible for stopping a train of explosives from crashing into Wayne Tower tonight," Bruce continued as the monitor shifted back to the glowing bat symbol. "He was concerned that Gotham might attract greater threats if they thought we had a new metahuman in town, but he expresses his gratitude. As do I."

Bruce put his cup down and paused for a moment, before giving her his full attention. Something in Power Girl did a little flip which she ignored. It was easy to forget just how intense the man behind the cowl could be, and she wasn't sure she had ever seen such a look of gratitude on the dark knight before.

"It's true what most of the League say – I'm protective of Gotham. I see it as my city, and I hesitate before I involve anyone else in its protection. But, I knew I could count on you. You really are one of the best, Kara. So, thank you."

For the first time in a very long time, Kara felt bashful. From seeing the emotion in Bruce's eyes. From hearing it in his voice. From being told how highly he thought of her. From him using her actual name.

"I was happy to help, Bruce," she admitted. "And thank you, too. For… well, everything."

"Just remember," he said, picking his cup back up. "You're always welcome in this city and this home. Don't feel like you have to wait for a bomb to go off to pay a visit. Plus, Alfred loves serving this tea and refuses to do it for just anybody.

Karen laughed, draining the rest of her cup and nodding back towards the red-trimmed Batmobile. "Oh, I'll be sure to visit more often. I have to check up on my Powermobile, after all."

* * *

Karen Starr frowned as a fresh stack of insurance forms crossed the desk in her temporary office. She tucked a strand of long red hair behind her ear, glanced about with her x-ray vision, and ensured that the coast was clear. The pages became a blur of white across the table. Her pen could barely keep up with her, but she dotted every i and crossed every t. Within seconds she stacked them together and banged them on her desk, lining the pile up before dropping them into her Outbox.

"I miss my office," she moaned to herself, resting her cheek on her palm. She barely looked up as a gentle knock sounded through the door. "Come in."

"Miss Starr?" A clerk from down the hall entered holding a square box, and she held her hand up, glaring at it.

"That's cleared security, right?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, miss," he urged, walking in and setting it on the desk. Immediately she felt his eyes drawn to her bust and she pursed her lips. "Also, you've got a phone call on line one."

"Thank you," she said, dropping her pen and picking up the phone. But the clerk hovered, his eyes glued to her cleavage, and she spun her chair around the other way. "That'll be all, Reggie," she called over her shoulder and waited until he nervously cleared his throat and left.

Twenty-four hours with Bruce Wayne as a partner was all it took to forget that most men stared at her chest instead of her eyes, she realised morosely. Karen grabbed her parcel and pressed one on her phone. "Hello?"

"Miss Starr?" She recognised the voice on the other end immediately.

"Charlotte! How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you. The doctors tell me I'll be able to go home tomorrow."

"You just say when and I'll organise to have you picked up and taken anywhere you want," Karen promised. "And no but's!"

"I don't want to be a bother, Miss Starr. I mean, you've got the company to run, and after all this, you must be wanting to spend more time with Franklin…"

"Trust me," Karen said, setting her parcel on her lap and leaning back in her chair. "There's… nothing to worry about there." There wasn't much of anything there. Period. "So, don't fret. Besides, I miss seeing your cheery face around here."

"Isn't Mister Wayne helping you out in the office, though?"

"Bruce?" She blinked. "Oh, Bruce was just helping out with some security arrangements," Karen said. "I mean, he's Gotham's golden boy. Over there, you'd need a black belt for all things security. That's why I called him over."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear," Charlotte said, and Karen frowned.

"Why's that?"

"Well, it's silly but… the pair of you seemed rather cute together."

"Charlotte…" Unseen, Karen rolled her eyes. "Bruce is… he's a friend. It's not like that." So what if he was the definition of tall, dark and handsome? Or intelligent. Dedicated. Athletic. Driven. Heroic. Admirable.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed those thoughts away. It was just loneliness talking, she reasoned. Loneliness coupled with spending a day with a man who looked at _her_ instead of her breasts.

"Besides – sometimes he can _really_ annoy me." She still couldn't explain that sudden flash of irritation at the hospital. Only that she really, _really_ wanted to flick him upside the head. Which for her was every bit as good as an uppercut.

"I guess it's just as well – he has such a sordid reputation after all!" Charlotte said, and Karen felt herself laugh.

"Okay, promise you can keep a secret? Those stories are all made up," Karen smiled. "Bruce Wayne is perhaps the least sociable man you'll ever meet."

And that was the other reason she told herself not to wander into those thoughts – he had the mission. The calling. And it wasn't just part of his life – it _was_ Bruce Wayne's life.

"So, it's all just an act? I would never have guessed!"

The smile slipped from Karen's face. Her mouth hung open as her mind made a connection. ' _All an act_.' It was why she never minded when, in the past, when the façade of Bruce Wayne slipped, and he became the Batman. Even without his cowl and behind closed doors, it was a noticeable change. The way his voice became calm and even. His emotions seemed to cool. It was like she had explained to Atlee - Karen knew that he respected her enough not to pretend to be somebody he wasn't.

And that's what happened in the hospital hallway on their way to see Charlotte. She was treated with more playfulness, more emotion than Batman displayed. It was the playboy Bruce Wayne persona. The act he gave to strangers and people he wasn't interested in. And without even realising it, it frustrated and upset the hell out of her.

' _Well – that's a revelation_ ,' she thought, wetting her lips.

"That's just Bruce Wayne," she continued, turning her parcel over in her hands. With nobody around, she deftly tore the reinforced tape and cardboard open with a flick of her hand. "He'll always manage to surprise you…"

Once again, Karen felt herself trailing off as she lifted out a sparkling snow globe from the box. Inside was a perfect model of the leaning tower of Pisa. She turned it over a few times before reaching the bottom of the cardboard and pulling out a small, handwritten note:

 _For your new office. Don't be a stranger. – B_

"Charlotte? I've gotta go. There's something I need to clear up."

"Oh, of course, Miss Starr. Problems?"

"Not if I can help it."

* * *

Power Girl streaked through the cloud cover that stretched over the Hudson, entering Gotham airspace a second later. But she avoided the "back entrance" through Miagani, opting instead to dive below the dense tree cover behind Wayne Manor. She zipped in and out between the redwoods before neatly jumping the fence into the grounds proper. She stopped just long enough to duck behind an equipment shed, pulling on her sweats and shoes before jogging around the front to ring the doorbell.

She waited with her blonde bob of hair down. No red wig or glasses. She wasn't Karen Starr or Power Girl. She was Kara Zor-L – a daughter of Earth 2. And when the door opened to reveal not Alfred, but a similarly dressed down Bruce, she held her breath.

"Your note said not to be a stranger," she said with a shrug. Bruce offered her an easy smile and stepped aside.

"So it did. Would you like to come in for coffee…?"

"No. Yes. That is – " Kara bit her lip. "I've got one…" She held her hand up, a single finger extended before she added another beside it. " _Two_ very quick questions to ask first."

"Alright." Bruce's eyebrow arched upwards, and for a moment she was distracted merely by how handsome he looked while doing it. Seriously. It should be outlawed.

"First, yesterday in the hospital…? I wanted to _hurt_ you." Kara didn't know why she said it or what she was expecting. But Bruce simply nodded.

"So I noticed." Of course, he noticed, she thought. He was the world's greatest detective.

"I was annoyed at you because I couldn't tell if you were _you_ , or that pretend-drunk playboy you masquerade as. And I realise how dumb that sounds but, well, there it is."

"Was this before we walked inside when we were talking about liking one another?" There was a gentle tone of teasing in his voice. That hint of amusement she had become accustomed to over the last day.

"Yeah, that was it," she confessed. There was no going back now. Besides – if Batman was justice, then Power Girl was sheer stubbornness. Indomitable will. And she didn't fly to Gotham at the drop of a pin on just a whim.

"I wouldn't insult you by giving you an act, Kara," Bruce said, and she felt something inside her flip and jump once again. It had been doing a lot of that, lately. She nodded, wetting her lips once again.

"Okay. So, secondly… do you remember when we were discussing Diana and Steve? And what you said about them…?"

He nodded. "That if someone's worth it, they'll find a way to make it work."

"Just checking." Kara bit the inside of her cheek. She guessed she actually had three questions to ask, because if anyone wondered who was stubborn and bold enough to knock on Batman's door and ask him for a date, they'd probably answer "Power Girl." She inhaled, steeled herself, and –

"Kara, would you consider going out to dinner tonight?" Bruce Wayne asked her.

"Yes," she answered immediately. And then, not to be beaten, added: "Would you consider joining me for a night out tomorrow?"

He smiled at her, keeping contact with her eyes, and Kara decided then and there that she wanted to get used to it. "I'd like that," he said.

Kara grinned.

* * *

 _Epilogue_

The first time Power Girl met the Batman, she wasn't terribly impressed. How could she be? It wasn't so much that he was a mere mortal standing shoulder-to-supposed-shoulder with gods and aliens. It was his… well, everything. His seriousness. His paranoia. His winged-rodent motif. And he insisted on putting her through a horde of tests in his infamous cave, where she giggled at his equipment and poked fun at everything. When she started giving the circling bats above them names, and he remarked "That's not their names, Power Girl," Kara almost wet herself with laughter.

And then she started to hear the legends. Kal – well, Clark, as he preferred to be called there – called him the "most dangerous man alive." It was hard to believe when the Justice League was founded by people like an Amazon and a Green Lantern. But while some members called him creepy, and some called him idyllic, they all had a story of Batman beating the odds. Where he would triumph over murderers and aliens and warlords using just sheer determination and ingenuity and skill.

Karen was smart. Much smarter than most bad guys gave her credit for. A leggy blonde with big boobs and an hourglass figure? You wouldn't think she had a photographic memory and a high IQ. But she did, and by the time she founded her own company, she knew a bit about everyone.

"Just be careful of that Bruce Wayne guy," someone said once, nodding outside her office window at the tall tower over in Gotham. "He must have a pickled liver and every STD known to man by now." And Karen almost wet herself laughing again, because the Bruce Wayne she knew was the most dedicated, charitable and heroic man she met.

And soon, he was gone. Sacrificed to Darkseid. It didn't surprise her to hear it – she didn't doubt that Batman would perish while saving someone else. But it still _hurt_. For a time, she found herself working with Dick Grayson as he wore the mantle. A little more personable and sociable, but just… not Bruce. He had the dedication, but not the mind. The focus. Karen almost pulled her hair out trying to explain what happened between Ted Kord and Maxwell Lord.

And like a prayer answered from Rao, Bruce Wayne appeared. New suit. New life. And with a few clear commands, he began putting everything right again. He even took time from his insane new public schedule to help her get her own alter ego back on track. Because he was Batman, and nothing was too great for him.

Afterwards, when the dust settled, she admitted just how badly it hurt to think that he was lost for a time. She was almost bashful to say it, but she powered through. Because she was Power Girl, and nothing was too difficult for her.

Until Bruce called her Kara and reminded her she was one of the best. Until she spent more time with the man in civvies than his uniform and got to know him better than most did.

Until they started dating and she found herself thinking of future plans. Living arrangements. Working arrangements. Having a partner, she could accidentally break in her sleep. Sex.

… oh, the sex was phenomenal. More than enough to make some of her concerns vanish.

But most of all, Batman himself was a challenge. Because he was cool and calm. A professional. A symbol. Most women would struggle to balance a relationship with him.

But she was Power Girl, dammit, and she was up for the challenge. Besides, it was no different than Diana Prince and Steve Trevor. If someone was worth it, difficulties or not, you made it work. And as far as she was concerned, Bruce was worth it in spades.


End file.
